MARY  A.   DENISON'S  NOVELS, 

UNIFORM  EDITION.    CLOTH,  $1.00 


HIS    TRIUMPH. 

"  A  sprightly  story  is  '  His  Triumph,'  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  opens 
with  a  wedding,  and  ends  with  a  renunciation.  We  read  of  two  run- 
aways, of  lovers'  letters,  of  a  haunted  house,  a  debutante,  and  all  of  th« 
romance  and  reality  that  pertain  to  a  well-conceived  and  well-told  story. 
Mrs.  Denisou  is  a  skilful  story-teller,  and  'His  Triumph'  is  also  her 
triumph."  —  Philadelphia  Keystone. 

LIKE    A    GENTLEMAN. 

"  The  story  of  one  who  drank  '  like  a  gentleman  '  is  one  of  Mrs.  Den- 
Ison's  best  stories.  The  lovers  of  romance  will  pronounce  this  story 
charming,  and  be  all  the  more  pleased  with  it  because  some  of  the  char- 
acters are  purer,  sweeter,  and  nobler  than  are  often  found  in  real  life. 
The  incidents  are  thrilling,  the  plot  interesting,  the  story  well  told." 

ROTHMELL. 

"  The  style  is  clear  and  bright,  abounding  in  little  novel  pictures  and 
delicate  touches.  Rothmell,  the  principal  hero,  is  a  brilliant  surgeon, 
with  a  magnetic  eye,  but  a  penchant  in  earlier  life  for  marrying  rich 
women,  which,  indulged  in,  gives  him  considerable  after  trouble."  — 
Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

THAT    WIFE    OP    MINE. 

"  There  is  now  and  then  a  touch  of  genuine  pathos.  Its  incidents,  its 
characters,  its  language,  are  of  the  every-day  sort :  but  its  very  sim- 
plicity and  naturalness  give  it  a  charm  to  the  ordinary  reader;  and  it  is 
undeniably  pure  aud  healthful  in  its  tone.  We  must  pronounce  '  That 
Wife  of  Mine  '  an  excellent  book  of  its  kind."  —  Boston  Journal. 

THAT   HUSBAND    OP    MINE. 

"It  is  as  bright  and  cheery  as  a  sunbeam.  Sparkles  like  dewdrops* 
Full  of  good  humor,  with  a  great  deal  of  patience.  It  teaches  you  how 
to  get  a  husband,  how  to  manage  one,  and  how  an  engagement  can  be 
broken.  It  will  amuse  you  and  make  you  laugh.  After  reading  the  first 
page,  you  will  feel  like  joining  in  the  pursuit  of  '  That  Husband  of 
Mine.'  " 

MR.    PETER    CREWITT. 

•  Peter  Crewitt,'  from  the  same  house,  is  a  Dickens-sort  of  a  story, 
.  .  .  There  are  pa-sages  of  pathos,  of  moralizing,  of  pointed  ridicule  and 
satire,  that  would  do  credit  to  the  ablest  novelist.  The  average  novel- 
reader  will  become  quite  infatuated  over  '  Peter  Crewitt.'  "  —  Advertiser, 
Klmira,  N.Y. 

TELL    YOUR    WIPE 

"This,  though  not  a  sensational  story,  is  bright  enough  aud  timely 
enough  to  create  a  sensation.  The  story  is  very  entertainingly  told,  and 
leaves  a  good  impression." —  Winona  Republican. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price 

LEE    AND    SHEPARD    Publishers    Boston 


IF  SHE  WILL 

SHE  WILL 


BY 

MARY  A.  DENISON 

AUTHOR    OF '"THAT     HUSBAND    OF    MINE"    "THAT    WIFE    OF    MINE" 

"TELL    TOUR  WIFE"  "HIS  TRIUMPH"   "LIKE  A  GENTLEMAN" 

"BOTHMELL"     "MR.     PETER     CREWITT"     ETC. 


BOSTON  MDCCCXCI 
LEE    AND     SHEPARD     PUBLISHERS 

10  MILK  8TBEET  NEXT  "  THE  OLD  SOUTH  MEETING-HOU6K  " 

I  NEW  YORK  CHARLES  T.  DILLINGHAM 

718  AND  720  BBOADWAY 


COPYRIGHT,  1801,  BY  LEE  AND  SHEPARD 


All  rights  reserved 


IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


8.     J.     PAhKM'LL     4    CO.,    PRINTERS 
BOSTON 


PREFACE 


THAT  which  a  woman  wills,  she  will  accomplish, 
whether  it  is  finding  a  place  for  the  exercise  of  her 
genius,  her  business  capacity,  or  her  affections. 

A  clear-sighted  woman  is  quick  to  discern  the 
good  or  bad  qualities  of  the  man  who  has  gained 
her  love.  If  he  is  noble  to  the  heart's  core,  she 
knows  it,  and  will  go  through  fire  and  water  to 
uphold  him,  and  to  prove  her  faith  in  him.  If  she 
discerns  imperfections,  she  still  often  chooses  to 
ignore  them,  and  marry  the  man,  faults  and  all. 

IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL, 

is  a  world-wide  proverb;  and  my  little  summer 
story,  written  as  was 

"THAT  HUSBAND  OF  MINE," 

to  while  away  an  idle  hour,  neither  pretentious  nor 
ambitious,  just  a  story,  founded  upon  an  incident 
that  occurred  not  a  hundred  years  ago,  is  written 
—  well,  it  is  simply  an  outcome  of 

IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL. 

THE  AUTHOR. 

i 


2061873 


WHAT  FARMER  BEN  SAID 

JERUSHA,  when  she  says  she  will, 

"With  sparkles  in  her  eyes, 
There's  nary  use  to  try  and  kill 

Her  folly  as  it  flies. 
I  jest  set  down  and  let  her  DO, 

As  you  will  hev  to,  Bill, 
And  gen'ly  I  am  thankful,  too, 

That  when  she  will,  she  will. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  DAISY 5 

II.  MARGY 16 

III.  DISGUISED 22 

IV.  AMONG  TIIE  SHADOWS 36 

V.  MRS.  ST.  ALBERT'S  OPINION 41 

VI.  MARGY  WRITES 53 

VII.  MARGY  WRITES 60 

VIII.  IN  THE  ORGAN-LOFT.  —  "  WHY  CANNOT    I 

LET  THAT   GlRL   ALONE?" 65 

IX.  "I  WISH  IT  HAD  BEEN   MY  SHROUD"     .      .  73 

X.  MARGY  WRITES 87 

XI.  AT  THE  PARTY 96 

XII.  WHAT  THE  RECTOR  DID 109 

XIII.  IMPULSIVE  WORDS 117 

XIV.  MARGY'S  CURIOSITY 122 

XV.  A  DECLARATION  OF  LOVE 135 

XVI.  A  LEAP  FOR  LIFE 145 

XVII.  A  MORE  FORTUNATE  WOOER 152 

XVIII.  WHAT  DAISY  THOUGHT 162 

XIX.  A  RED-LETTER  DAY 167 

XX.  HOAV  DAISY  RECEIVED  THE  NEWS      .    .    .  177 

XXI.  TEMPLE  ASKS  FOR  DAISY 185 

XXII.  MARGY  WRITES 196 

XXIII.  A  ROYAL  WELCOME 203 

XXIV.  COUSIN  ELEANOR 214 

XXV.  THE  NEW  SENATOR  MEETS  ELEANOR    .    .  221 

XXVI.  DAISY  HEARS  THE  NEWS 232 

XXVII.  ZUE'S  REMORSE 244 

3 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXVIII.  DAISY'S  LAST  SUNDAY  IN  CHUKCH  .  .  .  255 

XXIX.  FOE  HER  COUSIN'S  SAKE 265 

XXX.  DIAMONDS 270 

XXXI.  A  BITTER  JEALOUSY 276 

XXXII.    RECALLED  BY  DEATH 291 

XXXIII.  "I  DENY  EVERYTHING" 299 

XXXIV.  WHAT  DAISY  FOUND 312 

XXXV.    ELEANOR'S  LETTER 319 

XXXVI.    FAITHFUL  TO  HER  LOVE 325 

XXXVII.    AT  LAST,  TRIUMPH 337 


IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  I. 

DAISY. 

ARTHUR  PRINCE  sat  in  his  study  alone  with 
his  own  thoughts. 

Around  him  were  all  the  tools  of  his  craft,  — 
books,  paper,  and  pens. 

Beside  him,  on  a  small  metal  reading-stand,  a 
famous  book,  just  at  this  time  holding  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public,  was  open  at  the  ninth  chapter. 

The  rector  had  just  laid  down  his  pen  with 
something  that  sounded  very  like  a  sigh,  and  now 
leaned  back  against  the  study-chair,  a  tall,  wide- 
seated  arm-chair  that  had  been  made  expressly 
for  his  grandfather  just  seventy  years  before. 
His  glance  fell  on  a  small  clump  of  firs,  under 
the  shade  of  which  a  girl  in  a  Swiss  cap  sat, 
indolently  happy,  enjoying  with  great  apparent 
pleasure  the  fresh,  balmy  air,  which  now  kissed 
her  fair  cheek,  now  ruffled  the  shining  curls  that 

5 


6  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

had  in  their  tints  just  a  suggestion  of  the  red  one 
sometimes  sees  in  gold. 

The  rector  smiled  at  the  sight ;  but  his  glance 
travelled  a  little  farther  on,  still  in  the  shadow. 
A  broad  baby-carriage,  over  whose  pretty  pink 
and  white  canopy  the  light  and  the  leaves  played 
at  checkers,  stood  within  hand's  reach  of  the  half- 
reclining  girl.  In  its  downy  depths  two  babies 
lay  fast  asleep.  Their  faces,  more  beautiful  than 
any  limner's  art  could  reproduce,  were  not  in  this 
man's  line  of  vision,  but  he  knew  them  by  heart. 
They  were  his  own  twin  sons.  The  whir  of  a 
sewing-machine  reached  his  ear,  blending  softly 
with  the  twittering  of  birds  and  the  various 
sibilant  sounds  of  air,  earth,  and  sky  outside  his 
study-window.  He  knew  whose  slender  fingers 
were  busy  over  the  little  garments  they  loved  to 
adorn;  and  just  at  that  moment  a  sweet  voice 
joined  in  with  the  pleasant  monotone  of  the  wheel, 
singing,  — 

"  My  love  loves  me,  I  am  content ; 

The  lily-leaves  are  white  and  gold  ; 
My  love  is  mine,  and  I  am  his,"  — 

Just  there  another  voice  intervened,  — 
"  Madam,  there  is  no  rice." 
"  Send  Zue  for  some,"  was  the  reply. 
"Zue  is  in  one  of   her  tantrums.     You   can't 
start  her  alone." 


"MY  DARLING"  7 

"  Then  suppose  you  go,  Margy,"  in  a  coaxing 
voice,  "  the  walk  will  do  you  good ;  "  and  whir 
went  the  sewing-machine  again. 

"Yes,  very  well;  and  shall  I  speak  for  some 
flour?  The  barrel  is  low." 

"  You  might  as  well,  Margy." 

"And  butter?     The  butter  is  nearly  gone." 

"  The  butter !     O  Margy  !  " 

"  It's  like  riches,  madam :  it  takes  to  itself  wings, 
and  flies." 

"  Oh,  well,  let  it  fly,  Margy.  Get  anything  and 
everything  you  need :  I  can  trust  you.  And  don't 
be  afraid  to  tell  me  when  things  are  out.  Some- 
times you  look  utterly  scared.  You  didn't  know, 
perhaps,  they  had  raised  my  husband's  salary." 

"  O  madam  !  "  comes  in  a  joyful  tone  to  the  rec- 
tor's ear.  "  I  declare  I  am  glad  !  "  And  whir  goes 
the  sewing-machine  again. 

"  Yes  ;  and,  O  Margy !  come  back  as  soon  as  you 
can,  and  bring  some  one  with  you,  a  man  if  you 
can  find  one,  to  take  this  machine  up-stairs.  It's 
too  near  the  study." 

"  My  darling !  always  thoughtful,"  the  rector 
said  softly,  and  began  to  write,  with  smiling  eyes. 

Meantime  the  young  girl  under  the  trees,  grown 
tired  of  re  very,  lifted  herself  erect,  and  looked 
about.  The  prospect  on  either  hand  was  an  agree- 
able one.  Flowers  of  every  hue,  ruby-red,  yellow, 


8  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

and  blue,  made  a  brave  show  on  both  sides  of  the 
garden-path.  The  girl  was  like  a  flower  herself, 
with  her  great  liquid  blue  eyes,  red-brown  hair, 
and  complexion  like  porcelain  of  the  clearest 
white,  tinted  with  pink  on  lips  and  cheeks.  They 
had  rightly  called  her  Daisy. 

A  veritable  child  of  nature  she  was,  in  spite  of 
the  Directoire  gown  of  palest  blue,  and  the  little 
cap  in  which  she  playfully  simulated  the  Swiss 
nurse  that  her  brother  could  not  afford  to  keep. 
A  sparrow  perched  upon  a  twig  just  over  the  faces 
of  the  sleeping  twins.  Chat,  the  old  family  horse, 
put  his  nose  over  the  fence  between  the  pasture 
and  the  garden,  and  gave  a  resounding  neigh. 

"  Are  you  glad  to  see  me,  old  fellow  ?  "  laughed 
Daisy,  as  she  went  towards  him.  The  horse  looked 
at  her  with  considering  eyes,  tossed  his  mane,  let 
himself  be  stroked  down  the  nose  along  the  big 
white  curve  that  sloped  between  his  eyes,  then,  as 
if  satisfied  with  her  caresses,  trotted  leisurely  to 
another  part  of  the  pasture. 

By  this  time  one  of  the  twins  was  awake,  blink- 
ing, laughing,  and  doubling  his  fists,  and  Daisy 
hurried  back  to  her  charge.  Seizing  the  handle 
of  the  carriage,  she  began  propelling  the  precious 
freight  towards  the  road. 

"  Allow  me,"  said  a  pleasant  voice ;  and  a  tall, 
handsome  man  with  dark  eyes,  in  which  there  was 


A  VISITOR  9 

a  charm  that  few  could  resist,  opened  the  gate  for 
her. 

"  Oh,  thank  you ! "  said  Daisy,  a  smile  in  her 
eyes,  and  an  unmistakable  scarlet  creeping  into 
either  smooth  cheek. 

"  Is  the  rector  at  home  ? "  he  asked,  lifting  his 
hat,  disclosing  a  grandly  shaped  head,  about  which 
clustered  close,  shining  auburn  curls. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  Daisy  said,  blushing  more  furi- 
ously than  ever.  "  I  think,  I  believe,  he  is  writing 
his  sermon." 

"  Ah !  Then  perhaps  I  had  better  not  disturb 
him." 

"  Oh,  }*ou  will  not  disturb  him ! "  she  said,  eagerly 
and  innocently.  "I  am  sure  he  will  see  you." 
Then  her  eyes  fell,  and  the  eloquent  blood  mounted 
to  her  temples.  She  turned  away  at  his  pleasant 
"  Thank  you  "  and  his  lingering  gaze,  and  he  went 
on  towards  the  rectory. 

"•  To  think  he  should  see  me  in  this  ridiculous 
cap !  "  Daisy  soliloquized.  She  snatched  it  off,  and 
ran  back  for  her  hat,  which  hung  by  the  strings 
from  a  low  bough.  "  I  don't  mind  caring  for  the 
babies,  but  I  don't  want  to  look  like  a  nurse-maid. 
What  must  he  have  thought  of  me  —  but  then, 
why  should  I  care  what  he  thinks  of  me  ?  " 

The  Fairstock  doctor  came  along  in  his  natty 
little  carriage.  His  white  hair  looked  like  a  wig, 


10  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

it  was  so  bushy  and  curly :  his  large,  merry  blue 
eyes  lighted  up  at  sight  of  Daisy. 

"  Taking  the  youngsters  for  an  airing,  eh,  Miss 
Daisy  ?  "  he  said,  driving  a  trifle  slower  than  his 
fat  old  horse  was  wont  to  jog.  "How  well  the 
twins  look  !  By  St.  Gregory !  I  never  saw  two 
prettier  boys.  Did  you  know  there  was  scarlet 
fever  over  in  Mossy  Hollow  ?  Two  children  down 
with  it.  I  trust  to  goodness  it  won't  spread.  It 
played  havoc  here  four  years  ago,  when  these 
children  were  in  sky-land.  Well,  I  must  drive  on. 
All  well  at  the  house?  Rector  busy?  Remark- 
ably healthy  in  Fairstock  just  now.  Please  God, 
I  hope  it  will  keep  so.  How  bright  the  ivy  is  on 
the  sunny  side  !  Good-day."  And  on  went  the 
fat  old  horse. 

Daisy  had  only  been  able  to  say  yes  and  no. 
Her  clear  eyes,  full  of  soul-light,  smilingly  fol- 
lowed the  retreating  chaise.  She  liked  the  old 
doctor,  who  had  always  been  very  kind  to  her,  — 
the  kindness  of  a  serious  adorer  mingled  with 
fatherly  interest.  Margy,  who  lived  in  the  family, 
said  that  all  the  men,  young  and  old,  were  in  love 
with  Daisy.  The  old  doctor's  merry  greeting  had 
restored  the  girl  to  her  normal  self.  At  that 
moment  Rush  Severn,  professor  of  music,  and 
organist  at  St.  Mary's,  turned  a  corner.  His  long, 
curling  locks  were  flying  under  a  sombrero  of 


DAISY'S  SOLILOQUY  11 

remarkable  proportions,  and  his  dreamy,  preoccu- 
pied air  stamped  him  as  a  man  different  "from 
others.  He  came  out  of  his  revery,  however,  at 
sight  of  Daisy,  looking  slightly  conscious  as  he 
lifted  his  hat. 

"  Lovely  day,"  he  said,  his  beautiful  face  aglow. 
"  By  the  way,  I  have  something  here  that  I  meant 
to  give  you  last  rehearsal  night."  He  took  the 
roll  of  music  from  under  his  arm,  deftly  subtracted 
a  sheet  of  note-paper,  and  handed  it  to  her.  Then, 
with  a  bow  and  glance  of  profound  admiration,  he 
steered  round  the  carriage,  lifted  his  hat  again, 
and  went  on. 

"  He  is  very  handsome,"  said  Daisy  to  herself, 
placing  the  roll  at  the  feet  of  the  twins,  and  start- 
ing on  again.  "  I  wonder  if  there  is  Spanish  blood 
in  his  veins.  I  never  look  at  him  but  I  think 
of  a  beautiful  woman.  How  different  from  Mr. 
Temple !  in  whose  face  there  is  something  almost 
divine.  Why  should  I  be  so  nervous  in  his  pres- 
ence, I  wonder  ?  I  never  am  with  anybody  else. 
It  can't  be  because  he  takes  any  particular  notice 
of  me,  for  he  don't.  He  just  treats  me  with 
ordinary  courtesy.  He  looks  like  some  of  the  old 
saints  we  see  in  pictures  with  a  strange  light  about 
their  heads.  I  wonder  what  it  is  that  attracts  me 
so  !  He  has  by  no  means  such  a  beautiful  face  as 
Rush  Severn,  about  whom  the  girls  all  rave,  and 


12  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

yet  I  like  him  a  thousand  times  better.  But  what 
nonsense !  "  And  she  turned  her  attention  to  the 
twins,  propping  them  up,  shaking  their  pillows, 
and  forcing  her  mind  back  to  its  natural  level  as 
she  shook  off  the  reflections  that  seemed  to  her 
almost  unmaidenly. 

"  Goodness  me,  Miss  Daisy !  And  here  you  are 
dragging  that  heavy  carriage  !  It's  too  much  for 
you ;  you'll  get  a  stoop  in  the  shoulders.  I'd 
take  it  if  that  cherub  of  mine  would  carry  some 
of  these  things." 

It  was  Margy  who  spoke.  She  had  come  from 
the  store  lower  down  in  the  town,  her  arms  full  of 
bundles. 

"Now  you  turn  right  about,  Miss  Daisy,  and 
let  me  fix  things.  There,  and  there,  and  there !  " 
she  added  in  a  voice  of  satisfaction,  as  she  put  a 
bundle  in  this  corner  of  the  roomy  carriage,  and 
another  in  that.  Daisy  laughed  and  let  her  do  as 
she  pleased. 

"  I  must  hurry  home,"  continued  the  woman, 
"  or  there'll  be  somebody  there  teasing  your 
brother's  life  out  of  him.  They  don't  often  trouble 
him  on  sermon-days  when  I'm  round." 

"  Ah !  but  you'll  be  too  late  for  one  of  the 
tramps,  as  you  call  them  all,"  said  Daisy,  a  merry 
twinkle  in  her  eye.  u  Mr.  Temple  is  there." 

The  woman  paled  from  temples  to  lips.     Her 


IT   MUST   BE   HE  13 

brows  contracted,  and  involuntarily  she  clutched 
the  handle  of  the  carriage  with  a  tighter  clasp. 

"  What's  his  first  name  ?  "  she  asked,  trying  to 
steady  her  voice. 

"  Andrew,  —  a  beautiful  name,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Great  God !  "  the  woman  said  to  herself  — 
"  then  it  must  be  he  !  I  was  sure,  before  —  but 
now !  "  she  drew  a  long  breath,  a  shadow  crossed 
her  face.  "  So  he  is  there,  is  he  ?  "  she  said  with 
a  shiver,  her  voice  so  changed  that  it  might  have 
been  that  of  another  woman.  Then  she  pressed 
her  lips  together,  opened  them,  turned  her  head 
away  with  a  gesture  of  disappointment  or  disgust, 
and  was  silent. 

"  He  often  comes,"  said  Daisy,  her  eyes  shining : 
"  you  must  have  seen  him." 

"  Yes,  at  a  distance.  Zue  always  lets  him  in  — 
he's  tall  —  and  —  and  good-looking." 

"He  is  just  splendid!"  said  Daisy;  then,  at 
Margy's  strange  glance,  she  hurried  to  say,  feeling 
her  cheeks  burn,  "  I  met  Doctor  Lamprey,  and  he 
says  there's  scarlet  fever  over  at  Mossy  Hollow. 
I  hate  the  very  sound,  so  does  Mar}7-.  She's  more 
afraid  of  that  than  any  other  disease." 

"  It's  a  good  ways  off,"  said  Margy,  in  a  mutter- 
ing tone  ;  "  besides,  there's  worse  things  can  come 
into  a  house  than  scarlet  fever." 

"  O  Margy  !  nothing  nearly  so  bad,"  said  Daisy. 
"  These  children  have  always  been  delicate." 


14  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Well,  I  guess  there's  no  danger,"  said  the 
woman,  adding  in  an  undertone,  "  not  from  that." 

She  was  straight  and  tall,  this  serving-woman, 
with  a  superb  figure.  Her  shoulders  were  broad, 
her  features  large  but  noble.  There  was  a  rugged- 
ness  of  nerve  and  strength  noticeable  in  every 
movement  of  her  finely  formed  arms,  that  com- 
pelled admiration.  Her  eyes  were  large,  dark, 
and  piercing.  Always  alert  and  faithful,  she  was 
a  treasure  indeed  in  the  rector's  little  family. 
Her  devotion  to  their  interests,  and  her  almost 
slavish  adherence  to  duty,  made  her  invaluable, 
both  as  a  servant  and  a  friend.  It  was  she  who 
kept  bores  away  on  sermon-day,  who  indeed  de- 
fended the  sacredness  and  privacy  of  the  study  at 
all  times,  dealt  with  tramps,  scolded  gossips,  and, 
according  to  the  opinion  of  one  of  the  latter,  held 
a  high  hand  in  the  minister's  affairs.  Yet,  with 
all  this,  she  was  never  officious ;  and  her  humility, 
joined  to  such  an  herculean  frame,  was  something 
wonderful. 

Following  her,  yet  keeping  at  a  certain  distance, 
was  a  girl  who  might  have  been  eight  years  old,  or 
fourteen,  according  to  the  mood  which  happened 
to  possess  her.  There  were  times  when  she  was 
beautiful ;  at  others,  her  evil,  almost  elfish,  expres- 
sion was  a  terror  to  the  beholder.  She  had  her 
mother's  dark  eyes  and  regular  features,  only  at 


MARGY'S  IRRESOLUTION  15 

times  the  former  held  a  gleam  that  was  dangerous. 
At  the  rectory  they  all  pitied  her;  and,  as  the 
mother's  active  service  made  up  for  the  child's 
deficiencies,  she  generally  came  and  went  at  her 
own  sweet  will.  Only  Daisy  could  sometimes 
charm  the  girl  out  of  her  furies,  or  detect,  now 
and  then,  that  she  had  in  her  nature  a  few  elements 
of  what  we  call  the  divine. 

"  I'll  go  in  the  back  way,"  said  Margy,  gather- 
ing up  her  bundles.  "  It's  almost  time  for  tea." 
Then  she  looked  irresolutely  at  the  study-windows. 
"  Miss  Daisy,"  she  said,  with  a  manner  that  sug- 
gested she  had  something  of  great  importance  to 
say.  Daisy  turned  to  her,  all  attention,  expect- 
ing she  hardly  knew  what,  seeing  the  woman's 
tense  expression  and  set  lips.  "  You  had  better 
be  careful,"  -  —  then  she  stopped,  —  "  careful  of  the 
babies,"  she  added.  "  Can  you  take  them  in  by 
yourself  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  I  can,"  said  Daisy,  who  felt  so 
certain  that  the  woman  had  not  said  what  she 
intended  to  say,  that  she  was  a  little  provoked. 
"What  are  you  looking  at  me  so,  for?"  she  fur^ 
ther  asked.  The  woman  said  nothing,  but  hurried 
round  by  the  side  entrance,  and  went  into  her  own 
part  of  the  house,  leaving  Daisy  standing  on  the 
steps,  and  wondering  what  had  come  over  her. 


16  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  II. 

MARGY. 

YEAKS  before,  when  Arthur  Prince  had  elected 
to  be  a  missionary  in  the  slums  of  New  York,  he 
had  become  interested  in  a  young  woman  whose 
destitute  condition  had  been  brought  to  his  notice. 

"  She's  that  savage,"  said  one  of  the  alley  gamins, 
"  that  you  wouldn't  want  to  offer  her  bread  if  she 
was  starving." 

One  evening  he  followed  her  to  her  home,  a 
miserable  room  on  the  first  floor  of  one  of  the 
meanest  tenement-houses  in  the  city.  The  young 
man  stepped  up  to  the  window,  and  was  trying  to 
get  a  glimpse  of  the  wretched  interior,  when  a 
policeman  touched  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  We  all  know  you,  Mr.  Prince,  sir,  and  what 
work  you  are  doing,"  he  said,  "but  I  wouldn't 
try  hereabouts  if  I  was  you.  The  woman's  a  she- 
devil,  and  it  would  be  like  her  to  do  you  a  harm, 
for  her  hand  seems  against  everybody." 

"  Because  everybody's  hand  is  against  her,  poor 
soul ! "  said  the  young  man  compassionately. 


THE  POLICEMAN'S   ADVICE  17 

"  She  has  such  a  face  that  I  can't  see  her  go  to 
ruin,  if  there  is  any  way  to  save  her.  She's  not 
like  the  other  people  about  here.  I'm  sure  she 
comes  of  a  good  family,  and  has  been,  if  not  rich, 
better  off  than  most." 

"I  know  that,  Mr.  Prince;  them's  the  worst 
when  they're  down  on  their  luck.  Of  course  the 
likes  of  you  feels  charitable,  and  all  that,  but  I'd 
advise  you  to  let  this  girl  alone.  I  would,  indeed. 
She  do  hates  to  be  helped  even,  and  her  temper  is 
awful." 

"I  must  think  it  over,  then,"  said  the  young 
missionary.  "  Something  tells  me  that  under  all 
this  woman's  seeming  hardness,  there  is  a  noble 
nature.  But  I  will  heed  what  you  say.  I  will 
watch  and  not  visit  her." 

He  had  turned  to  leave  the  place.  The  watch- 
man's burly  figure  moved  off  on  his  accustomed 
beat,  when  suddenly  a  woman  rushed  past  him, 
with  something  wrapped  up  in  her  arms,  and  he 
knew  as  well  as  if  he  had  looked  in  her  face,  who 
it  was. 

"  I  must  follow  her,"  he  said  under  his  breath. 
"  She  means  to  do  some  terrible  deed.  Something 
tells  me  that  this  may  be  the  turning-point  in  her 
life.  If  it  means  death,  the  murder  of  that  inno- 
cent, I  must  follow  her." 

And    he    did,    gliding    round    corners,    going 


18  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

through  alleys  where  a  dog  would  hardly  seek 
for  a  bone,  tiH  at  last  the  long,  tar-smelling  wharf 
with  its  millions  of  merchandise  piled  here  and 
there  under  the  roofs  of  mighty  storehouses  came 
in  view,  and  she,  looking  round  now  and  then, 
and  he  dodging  to  prevent  recognition,  gained  the 
rough,  buttressed  edge  under  which  the  waters 
gurgled  and  sullenly  lapped  the  huge  beams, 
green  with  slime,  which  held  the  great  wharf  in 
leash. 

Then  he  stole  out  into  the  one  gleam  of  moon- 
light afforded  by  a  parting  cloud,  and  which 
reached  like  a  lance  across  the  water,  from  where 
she  stood.  He  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder. 
She  did  not  even  start,  only  turned  to  him  a  livid 
face,  so  white  in  outline,  so  black  in  shadow,  that 
it  seemed  like  the  face  of  a  hunted  spirit,  waiting 
to  be  avenged  on  its  destroyer. 

"  You  have  followed  me,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  was  his  reply.  "You  know  me  for  a 
friend,  Margy,"  he  went  on,  in  the  same  quiet 
tone :  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  Drown  myself,  and  this :  "  she  tapped  the  bun- 
dle, her  fingers  looking  weird  in  the  moonlight. 

"  You  shall  not.     I  will  not  let  you." 

"  You !  "  and  her  set  lips  parted  in  a  scornful 
smile.  "  As  if  you  could  help  it !  Do  you  know 
how  strong  I  am  ?  " 


AFTER  A  SOUL  19 

"  Too  strong,  I  hope,  to  commit  an  act  of  such 
folly,  to  throw  your  life  away.  Think  of  it !  And 
what  comes  after?"  he  asked,  in  the  same  soft, 
low  tones. 

"  Nothing,  I  hope.  I  don't  care  what.  Why 
should  I?  There's  nothing  to  live  for.  People 
seem  to  hate  and  despise  me,  and  I  hate  and 
despise  them.  It's  hard  work  to  get  bread,  only 
bread;  and  I  won't  beg,  I  can't  fight,  I'm  tired 
out.  I  hate  myself,  life,  this  child,  everything." 

"At  least,  leave  the  child,  if  you  are  deter- 
mined to  destroy  yourself,"  he  said,  to  turn  her 
thoughts.  "  Some  day  it  may  thank  me  for  life." 

"  Never,"  she  said,  with  bitter  energy.  "  I 
have  suffered  too  much.  I  have  had  nothing  but 
hate  and  despair  in  my  heart.  The  child  is  a 
thing  of  hate  and  malice.  Besides,  I  should  only 
leave  her  to  the  streets." 

"  I  promise  you  I  will  care  for  her,  get  her  a 
good  home,  help  her  to  grow  up  in  the  right  way. 
If  you  will  let  me,  I  will  help  you,  if  you  will 
only  have  patience." 

"  You  —  help  me  !  and  set  people  talking,"  she 
flamed  out.  "You're  too  good  a  man.  Let  me 
alone." 

"  I  don't  care  for  people,  I'm  after  a  soul,"  he 
said,  "something  precious  in  the  eyes  of  a  pity- 
ing Father.  The  talk  of  people  is  that,"  and  he 


20  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

snapped  his  fingers.  "  Don't  fling  away  a  life  that 
might  be  made  useful  to  others.  You  are  not  fit 
to  die." 

The  woman  turned  her  face  seaward.  All  the 
wide  black  water,  restless  as  her  soul,  seemed  invit- 
ing her  to  make  the  daring  leap.  She  looked  up 
at  the  sky.  It,  too,  was  dark.  Then  she  shivered. 

"  I  am  not  a  light  woman,"  she  moaned.  "  I 
have  always  tried  to  be  honest,  but  I  won't 
starve." 

"  Try  once  again,"  he  said  softly ;  and  in  those 
three  words  was  the  very  music  of  heaven,  he  so 
yearned  to  save  her,  and  it  sank  into  her  heart. 
"  I  can  get  you  help,  work,  friends,  if  you  will 
only  be  patient  and  kind.  You  have  never  been 
kind." 

"  I  know  it ;  because  I  thought  you  might,  per- 
haps, be  like  all  the  rest,  and  I  hated  you,  hated 
everything,"  she  said  tremulously.  "  I  have  been 
so  badly  treated,"  and  a  sob  choked  her  voice. 
"But  I  should  like  —  oh,  if  I  could  only  be 
trusted ! "  she  cried,  a  passionate  wail  in  her 
tones. 

"  You  shall  be.  Come  with  me.  I  will  find 
you  a  place.  Go  back  to  the  old  home  for  to- 
night, and  believe  me.  As  I  said  before,  be 
patient,  believe  there  are  those  in  the  city  would 
be  glad  to  help  you." 


FRIENDS  RAISED  UP  21 

"  If  you  will !  If  I  know  there  is  only  one  to 
stand  by  me,  I  will  do  it,"  she  said  firmly.  "  But 
I  must  keep  my  child." 

"  You  shall  keep  your  child,"  he  said,  and  she 
did.  Kind  friends  were  raised  up,  but  no  one 
took  the  place  of  this  fervent-hearted  young  mis- 
sionary; and  when,  one  year  afterward,  he  was 
married  to  the  girl  he  had  loved  since  they  were 
children  together,  Margy  went  with  them  and  had 
remained  with  them  ever  since,  and  Zue  was  the 
only  child  of  the  house  for  many  years,  when  the 
twins  were  born. 


22  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  III. 

DISGUISED. 

THE  sewing-machine  was  still  whirring,  and  all 
the  drowsy,  outdoor  music  subsiding  into  a  con- 
tinuous monotone,  as  the  day  waned  to  its  close. 
Page  after  page  of  exquisite  penmanship  had 
fallen  to  right  and  left  of  the  rector's  busy  hands 
for  the  last  hour,  and  now  he  was  nearly  through. 

Meantime,  at  a  window  facing  south,  overlook- 
ing the  charming  outlines  of  gray  and  green  hills 
in  whose  hollows  the  setting  sun  was  pouring 
cups  of  liquid  gold,  while  the  clouds  sent  shifting 
shadows  adown  their  undulating  sides,  Andrew 
Temple  sat  with  a  book  in  his  hand. 

He  was  a  tall  man,  somewhat  spare,  though  the 
grace  of  his  manner  made  his  figure  appear  of 
perfect  symmetry.  Nothing  nobler  could  be  im- 
agined than  the  contour  of  his  head  and  face. 
Though  eminent  in  the  world  of  letters,  he  was  as 
simple  in  his  ways  as  a  child.  There  were  too 
many  lines  in  his  face  fora  man  not  yet  thirty-six ; 
yet  they  gave  added  dignity  and  a  certain  quality 


THE  CHARM  23 

of  expression  that  emphasized  the  nobility  of  the 
features.  A  more  than  casual  observer  would  say 
that  this  man  had  suffered,  that  some  sharp,  fierce 
struggle  with  suffering  had  accentuated  the  char- 
acter of  his  expression,  which  was  so  marked,  and 
yet  so  softened,  that  it  served  the  same  purpose  in 
him  that  beauty  would  in  a  woman,  attracted  and 
delighted  the  eye.  People  looked  twice  at  him, 
then  again,  drawn  by  that  irresistible  blending  of 
sweetness  and  sadness,  and  the  charm  of  his  large 
dark  eyes.  His  smile  was  something  almost  divine. 
There  was  an  expression  so  altogether  unworldly, 
so  saintly  in  its  radiance,  that  one  waited  for  it 
as  for  something  rarely  seen,  wondering  the  while 
what  processes  of  thought,  or  familiarity  with  un- 
worldly things,  had  placed  him  beyond  the  plane 
of  ordinary  men. 

Yet  this  man  was  almost  as  far  from  being  a 
saint  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  term, 
as  was  Lucifer  when  he  fell.  Not  that  he  was 
immoral  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  or  wanting  in 
outward  respect  for  conventional  religious  observ- 
ances, but  at  heart  he  was  everything  that  implies 
an  unbeliever.  "  Give  me  the  proof,"  was  his 
constant  call. 

He  had  studied  the  character  of  Arthur  Prince 
from  the  time  he  had  first  made  his  acquaintance, 
three  years  before,  when  hundreds  of  lives  were 


24  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

in  peril  on  board  an  excursion  steamer,  and  he 
had  worked  side  by  side  with  the  man  he  con- 
sidered only  an  enthusiast  —  both  men  cool,  calm, 
heroic,  self-forgetting,  animated  as  they  were  by 
utterly  different  principles.  He  remembered  after- 
wards that  the  rector  had  put  his  wife  aboard  one 
of  the  boats,  that  she  cried  passionately  that  she 
could  not  and  would  not  go  without  him,  till  he 
said,  "  Mary,  remember  your  marriage  vow.  Never 
before  have  I  said,  '  Obey  me : '  now  I  do."  Then 
there  was  a  quick,  embrace,  a  tearful  utterance, 
"  We  shall  be  together  soon,  either  here  or  there,'' 
and  Mary  went  down  to  her  possible  doom,  as  the 
rector  silently  lifted  eyes  and  fingers  toward  the 
unseen  country. 

Andrew  Temple  had  never  forgotten  that  scene, 
—  the  lofty  serenity,  the  manly  tenderness,  and 
the  air  of  kingly  command  that  seemed  part  and 
parcel  of  the  man.  He  had  since  corresponded 
with  the  rector  occasionally  ;  and  within  the  past 
month,  having  come  to  stay  a  while  at  Fairstock, 
he  took  the  first  opportunity  that  occurred  to 
renew  the  acquaintance,  and,  that  he  might  not  sail 
under  false  colors,  frankly  stated  his  own  views, 
his  willingness  to  be  convinced  if  in  error,  his 
admiration  of  certain  tenets,  though  unable  to 
accept  them,  and  thoroughly  won  the  heart  of  the 
man  so  opposite  to  him  in  all  that  stimulates  a 


FINISHED  WORK  25 

religious  faith,  or  constitutes  a  religious  life.  He 
never  disturbed  the  rector,  as  some  reckon  disturb- 
ance. They  sat  together  side  by  side ;  and  one 
would  have  thought  them  two  brothers,  even  when 
they  discussed  matters  on  which  they  were  at 
variance.  It  rarely  occurred  to  the  rector  that  an 
antagonist  was  near  when  Temple  was  present. 
So  he  wrote  on  and  on,  this  afternoon,  till  at  last 
he  flung  the  final  page  down  with  an  exultant 
"  Ainen !  so  mote  it  be  !  "  and  turned  his  bright 
face  toward  his  visitor,  holding  his  hand  out 
cordially. 

"  I  was  hard  at  it  when  you  came  in,  but  I  knew 
you  wouldn't  mind.  Glad  you  stayed.  How  are 
you  ?  And  what  news  do  you  bring  from  the  busy 
world  outside  ?  How  goes  on  the  famous  law- 
case  ?  Loosen  the  cords  of  your  eloquent  tongue, 
and  tell  me.  You  always  tone  me  up,  and  I  con- 
fess that  I  am  fearfully  exhausted.  It  seemed  to 
me  while  writing  that  I  was  obeying  the  behest  of 
something  more  powerful  than  my  own  mind,  and 
I  couldn't  have  stopped  to  save  my  existence. 
There  —  now  I  am  comfortable." 

He  had  thrown  himself  upon  the  great  square 
lounge,  heaping  the  pillows  about  his  head.  His 
brilliant  eyes  still  shed  the  fire  of  thought,  a 
roseate  glow  lingered  about  his  face,  the  thin  but 
well-formed  lips  alone  were  pale,  and  his  luxuriant 


26  IF  SUE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

dark  hair,  thrown  back  from  his  temples,  was  in 
striking  contrast  with  the  white  gleam  of  his 
forehead. 

"  You  look  very  well  satisfied,"  said  his  visitor, 
putting  his  book  aside. 

"  I  am  satisfied,  though  I  shouldn't  say  that. 
No  mere  man  can  dare  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
meagre  work  he  does,  even  if  it  is  his  best.  Per- 
haps I  should  say  I  am  happy,  having  done  the 
duty  which  I  always  approach  with  a  sort  of  reluc- 
tance. There's  Beach,  of  St.  Paul's,  says  he's 
never  so  happy  as  when  he  is  getting  up  a  sermon ; 
but  I  am  never  happy  till  it's  done.  But  never 
mind.  You  don't  care  about  such  things  —  tell 
me  about  your  case." 

"  You  mistake :  I  do  care,"  said  Temple.  "  I  am 
always  craving  for  spiritual  aspirations,  particu- 
larly when  with  you.  I'd  give  the  world  to  think 
as  you  do." 

"  If  you  had  it  to  give,"  laughed  the  rector. 

"  Well,  then,  the  epitome  of  what  is  the  world 
in  my  possession,  —  my  doubts,  my  facts,  my  very 
existence." 

"  Well,  perhaps  you'll  get  there  sometime,  with 
an  entirely  different  sacrifice,"  said  the  rector, 
"and  then  how  strange  the  Andrew  Temple  of 
now  will  seem  to  you.  But  come,  you  brainy 
infidel,  let's  talk  of  other  things.  Haven't  you 
something  funny  to  tell  me?" 


A  STORY  27 

"  What !  something  funny,  after  "  — 

"Exactly,"  responded  his  friend;  "that's  over 
and  done  with.  What  is  writ  is  writ,  and  I  wish 
the  whole  world  could  hear  it.  There's  egotism 
for  you.  But  I'm  tired,  my  head  feels  cobwebby. 
I  want  to  baste  my  theological  baked  meats  with  a 
little  illogical  gravy.  Don't  you  see?  You  gen- 
erally have  a  fund  of  anecdote.  Bring  it  out, 
parade  your  witticisms,  marshal  your  regiments 
of  small  talk.  One  can't  live  in  the  clouds  more 
than  an  hour  at  a  time,  —  at  least  I  can't." 

"  Well,  here  goes,  then,"  said  the  other,  lifting 
his  square  shoulders,  his  luminous  eyes  growing 
darker  as  he  mentally  reviewed  the  scene  he  in- 
tended to  portray. 

"  One  of  the  witnesses  in  this  case  of  Hobbs 
and  Hamline  —  by  the  way,  that  first  name  ought 
to  be  Hoggs  to  make  euphony  and  sense  perfect 
—  is  a  thick-headed  Irishman,  who,  unlike  most  of 
his  countrymen,  is  somewhat  stupid.  Broome  was 
the  lawyer  for  the  defence.  Broome  is  a  slight 
man  with  the  reddest  face  imaginable,  topped  by 
a  shock  of  flaming  hair,  and  a  mustache  to  match. 
Of  course  with  such  a  physique  he  is  a  peppery 
little  fellow. 

"  '  Did  you  know  the  prisoner  ?  '  he  asked  of  Pat. 

"  '  Do  I  know  my  own  mother  ?  '  asks  Pat,  with 
a  fine  sneer. 


28  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

" '  That's  not  an  answer  to  the  question,'  said 
Broome  tartly.  '  Did  you  know  the  prisoner  ? ' 

"  '  Did  I  ?  Begorry,  I  might  hev  knowed  him 
and  then  agin  forgot,'  said  Pat,  warily.  '  Sure,  if 
ye'd  ast  my  father's  son  if  he  knowed  his  own 
daddy '- 

" '  Silence  ! '  thundered  Broome,  for  the  whole 
court  was  giggling. 

" '  Silence  it  is,'  was  the  meek  rejoinder. 

" '  I  warn  you,  my  man,  that  before  you  know 
it,  you  will  be  committed  for  contempt  of  court,' 
says  Broome. 

" '  I've  not  said  a  word  of  contempt,'  answers 
Pat.  'I'm  a  man  as  is  careful  of  spaking  his 
convictions.' 

"  Broome,  by  this  time,  had  worked  himself  into 
a  rage. 

" '  Will  you  say  yes  or  no  ?  Do  you  know  the 
prisoner  ?  '  he  roars. 

"  '  Know  it  is,  then,  surr,'  was  the  answer.  It 
sounded  like  a  denial. 

"'But  you  intimated  a  moment  ago  that  you 
did,'  cried  Broome.  'Commit  this  man  for  con- 
tempt of  court.' 

" '  Sure,  an'  didn't  I  jest  say  in  them  four  words, 
know  him  I  did? '  was  the  quaking  answer.  '  Av 
coorse  I  knows  him,  ever  since  he  sold  me  a  cow 
for  a  yearling  calf;'  and  then  Pat's  eloquence 


AN    I  MUST,  I  MUST  29 

was  squelched.  There,  do  you  see  any  fun  in 
that?" 

"  Considerable  humor,"  said  the  rector,  who  had 
listened  smiling,  his  hands  clasped  over  his  head. 
"  Any  more  ?  " 

Mary's  face  appeared  between  the  folds  of  the 
portiere. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  "  supper  is  ready." 

Andrew  Temple  sprang  up  and  made  for  th3 
door. 

"  Come,  now,  you're  not  going,"  said  Prince,  as 
he  lifted  his  long  limbs  from  the  lounge. 

"  I  must,  thank  you.     I  "  — 

"  No,  I  say,"  repeated  the  rector.  "  Mary,  come 
hold  his  arms.  He  shall  stay  by  force." 

"  Daisy,"  as  the  girl's  bright  face  appeared,  "  go 
hide  his  hat,  quick." 

Daisy  ran  blushing  and  laughing  into  the  hall. 

"  You  have  never  eaten  salt  in  my  house,  and  I 
propose  to  keep  you  this  time,"  said  the  rector. 

"Very  well,  an  I  must,  I  must,  I  suppose,"  said 
Temple. 

Daisy  ran  out  to  tell  Margy  another  plate  and 
cup  and  saucer  were  needed. 

"  When  you  keep  house  I'll  come  over  every 
other  night,"  said  the  rector. 

"  Yes,  when,"  the  other  made  reply,  a  shadow 
crossing  his  face.  "If  I  wait  for  good  comrade- 


30  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

ship  on  that  contingency,  I  shall  never  see  you  at 
my  table." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  rector,  as  he  led  the  way 
out  to  the  dining-room. 

"  Bachelors  are  always  a  despondent  class  of 
men,"  he  went  on,  lifting  the  cup  of  tea  his  wife 
handed  him.  "  Think  of  your  living  to  this  age 
and  never  finding  a  mate !  Why,  man,  you  must 
be  adamant." 

At  that  moment,  by  chance,  Andrew  Temple  met 
Daisy's  eyes.  He  set  his  cup  down  even  in  the  act 
of  raising  it  to  his  lips.  Those  eyes  which  had 
become  heaven  to  him,  the  only  heaven  he  knew, 
were  swimming  in  liquid  light.  The  rich  red 
lips  tremulous  with  smiles,  the  beauty  and  inno- 
cence of  her  face  and  manner,  the  winning  way 
she  looked  at  him,  made  him  almost  lose  control  of 
himself. 

"  Why  did  I  stay  ?  "  he  asked  himself  fiercely, 
and  then  ventured  another  glance.  This  time  she 
was  answering  her  sister's  question  about  the 
twins. 

"  They  were  both  sleeping  sweetly  when  I  left 
them,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"  Were  they  ?  I  fancied  I  heard  a  cry,"  said 
Mary.  "  I  believe  I  will  send  for  Margy,  and  let 
her  go  up-stairs.  Besides,  we  want  more  bread." 

She  rang  the  bell.     Margy  did  not  answer  with 


LOVE  SONGS  31 

her  usual  promptitude.  When  she  did,  a  transfor- 
mation had  taken  place  in  her  appearance.  She  had 
bundled  up  her  face,  and  thrown  a  handkerchief 
about  her  head,  which  fell  low  upon  her  forehead, 
so  that  only  her  striking  dark  eyes  were  visible. 

Mary  looked  her  astonishment. 

"  What  in  the  world  has  Margy  disfigured  her- 
self in  that  way  for  ?  "  the  rector  asked. 

"  She  is  often  taken  suddenly  with  neuralgia. 
I  suppose  she  has  an  attack,"  said  Mary.  The 
woman  had  gone  up-stairs. 

"  She  was  well  enough  just  now,"  said  Daisy : 
"  it  must  have  been  very  sudden." 

They  adjourned  to  the  parlor  after  tea,  where 
Daisy  was  prevailed  upon  to  sing,  and,  after  one 
song,  more  were  called  for.  Then  several  of  the 
vestrymen  came  in  and  carried  off  the  rector  for 
a  private  chat  in  the  church-study.  Daisy  and 
Temple  were  left  alone.  He  stood  on  the  left  of 
the  piano,  selecting  music  from  the  rack.  Daisy 
was  very  happy,  though  he  stood  there  in  the  most 
commonplace  manner  and  said  the  most  common- 
place things. 

"  I  don't  care  for  love-songs,"  he  said,  placing 
one  or  two  of  them  aside,  "  but  almost  any  other 
sentiment  pleases  me.  This,  for  instance,"  and  he 
lifted  a  serenade  to  the  music-rack.  "  Your  voice 
is  just  fitted  for  it.  Oh,  yes,  you  will  sing  that." 


32  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  I  don't  believe  I  have  time,"  she  said,  looking 
over  to  the  clock.  "  It's  rehearsal  to-night.  Pray 
tell  me  what  is  the  hour  by  your  watch.  That  clock 
is  a  very  uncertain  reminder.  Half-past  eight !  I 
am  positively  late,"  she  cried,  springing  up.  "  Mr. 
Severn  will  never  forgive  me.  He  depends  upon 
me  to  set  an  example  of  punctuality  to  the  rest." 

"  He  is  sure  to  be  there  early,  of  course,"  said 
Temple. 

He  stood  back  a  little  and  watched  her  as  she 
shut  the  piano,  straightened  the  scarf  that  fell 
over  the  cover  with  deft  fingers,  and  put  away  her 
music.  It  occurred  to  him  that  she  did  not  appear 
to  be  in  a  desperate  hurry.  Should  he  stay,  or  go  ? 
Here  were  books  and  papers  and  comfort.  Out- 
side was  the  gathering  darkness ;  home  was  a 
boarding-house.  The  study  through  which  they 
passed  looked  pretty  in  the  blended  fire  and  lamp 
light.  A  fire  was  always  kindled  at  twilight.  He 
stood  there,  tall  and  straight  and  handsome,  debat- 
ing within  himself  what  he  should  do. 

Daisy  had  meanwhile  gone  up-stairs.  If  her 
feet  had  been  wings  she  could  not  have  felt  lighter 
or  more  exultant.  She  did  not  ask  herself  why. 
It  was  enough  that  she  was  happy,  happier  than 
she  had  ever  been  in  all  her  life  before.  The  sur- 
vival of  glow  and  color  that  had  made  the  presence 
of  the  man  below  stairs  so  attractive,  kindled  yet 


A  PLEASANT  SURPRISE  33 

in  her  eyes  and  cheeks.  With  deft,  soft  touches 
she  arrayed  herself  for  her  short  walk.  Would  he 
still  be  there  when  she  went  down-stairs  ?  He 
had  not  said  good-night.  She  listened  for  the 
shutting  of  the  outside  door.  Then  she  laughed 
at  herself  as  she  drew  on  her  jacket,  and  again  as 
she  threw  over  her  head  the  white  wool  scarf 
she  always  wore  of  evenings. 

"I'll  just  look  in  upon  Mary,"  she  whispered. 
Mary  was  sorting  some  clothes  for  the  twins,  who 
lay  rosy  and  sweet,  asleep  in  their  little  bed. 

"  Aren't  you  late  ? "  Mary  said.  Then  she 
looked  in  the  radiant  face  beside  her. 

"  Why,  you  are  absolutely  brilliant,  Daisy.  I 
never  saw  you  with  such  color.  Has  Mr.  Temple 
gone  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Daisy  with  charm- 
ing indifference,  considering  that  it  was  assumed; 
but  feeling  the  heat  in  her  cheeks,  she  made  for 
the  door. 

Lightly  as  she  went  down-stairs,  Temple  must 
have  heard  her.  He  stood  in  the  hall  pulling  on 
his  coat.  The  light  was  low,  and  in  the  shadow 
he  looked  white  and  cold.  Then  he  opened  the 
front  door  and  held  it  for  her. 

"  I  hope  you  won't  object  to  my  company,"  he 
said.  "  I  am  going  the  same  way." 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  Daisy  made  faint  reply,  half  beside 


34  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

herself  with  happiness.  All  that  was  happening 
was  so  new  and  strange.  This  man's  manner  held 
a  certain  deference,  a  new  element  of  —  what 
should  she  call  it  —  tenderness  ?  His  voice  was 
so  low,  sweet,  and  caressing.  And  now  that  he 
was  walking  alongside  of  her,  caring  for  her  com- 
fort, she  felt  herself  of  new  importance. 

The  night  was  dark,  but  the  darkness  was  not 
opaque.  Heaven  was  alight  with  myriad  stars. 
The  bright  windows  in  the  houses  they  passed 
looked  cheerful.  There  was  a  song  in  the  air,  for 
some  far-off  bells  were  ringing.  Most  of  the  time 
they  walked  in  silence,  till  at  last  the  dark  towers 
of  the  church  loomed  up.  There  Temple  stopped. 

"  Won't  you  go  in  ? "  Daisy  asked  timidly, 
looking  up. 

"  I  think  not,"  he  said  with  some  hesitation,  and 
then,  "  I  don't  know  but  what  I  will." 

"  Oh,  yes,  do,"  said  Daisy,  a  little  touch  of  tri- 
umph in  her  voice.  "We're  going  to  sing  Sulli- 
van's Te  Deum.  You  will  like  it." 

He  went  into  the  body  of  the  church,  which  was 
dimly  lighted.  The  interior  looked  vast,  solemn, 
unearthly.  On  the  reredos  an  illumination  from 
the  study  threw  into  strong  relief  the  face  of 
Christ,  and  one  other  face  of  angelic  sweetness, 
that  of  St.  John.  The  choir  was  opposite  the 
chancel,  so  that  one  had  to  turn  round  to  see  the 


ALONE  35 

singers.  Andrew  Temple  took  the  corner  of  a 
pew  about  midway  of  the  central  aisle,  then  be- 
thought himself  and  went  farther  on  and  in  one  of 
the  side  seats,  where  he  could  see  the  singers. 
The  same  light  that  brought  out  the  faces  on  the 
painted  reredos,  struck  his  pale,  refined  features. 

The  gleam  of  the  choir-lamps  on  the  polished 
tops  of  the  pews,  the  still  shadows  everywhere, 
the  sense  of  his  being  the  only  person  present  in 
the  body  of  the  house,  made  him  feel  ill  at  ease. 
Once  or  twice  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave. 
There  were  important  letters  waiting  to  be  an- 
swered ;  but  still  he  stayed,  while  the  rustling  of 
leaves  and  subdued  talk  and  laughter  went  on 
up-stairs. 


36  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  IV. 

AMONG  THE  SHADOWS. 

"  OH,  here  comes  Daisy  !  Well,  Miss  Punctu- 
ality, we've  been  waiting  for  you  a  good  half- 
hour,"  one  of  the  girls  cried  out,  as  Daisy  made 
her  appearance,  flushed  and  breathing  quickly, 
from  the  exertion  of  running  up-stairs. 

"  We're  all  here  before  you,  this  time !  "  said 
Nellie  Ray,  a  slender  blonde: 

"  So  I  see,"  said  Daisy  quietly. 

Rush  Severn  stood  at  the  side  of  the  organ, 
looking  at  her.  He,  too,  had  been  waiting,  and 
now  the  plethoric  wheezing  of  the  organ  reminded 
him  that  he  had  set  the  boy  to  blowing.  It  was 
a  new  boy,  and  he  called  out  to  him  to  stop  while 
he  mounted  the  tall  bench,  and  adjusted  the  music. 
Then  came  the  usual  programme,  —  search  for 
music-books,  repetitions  of  chords  and  harmonies, 
snatches  of  tunes,  the  leader's  sonorous  criticisms, 
silences,  coquetting  on  the  part  of  some  of  the 
pretty  girls  with  either  the  tenor  or  the  organist, 
whispering,  suppressed  giggling,  and  occasionally 


AN  ENCHANTRESS  37 

a  reprimand  that  kept  them  all  still  for  five 
minutes. 

Andrew  Temple  sat  below,  scarcely  pleased  as 
yet,  and  quite  lost  in  meditation,  till  suddenly  the 
voice  he  loved  but  had  never  really  heard  till  then, 
welled  up  in  a  flood  of  sweet  melody,  and  the 
words,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  rang 
out  like  bugle-tones  through  all  the  lofty  space. 
The  words  struck  each  with  its  own  momentum 
of  force  upon  his  heart. 

When  he  looked  up,  scarcely  breathing,  he  could 
not  well  see  the  singer.  The  gas  was  so  arranged 
as  to  throw  the  light  upon  the  books,  consequently 
the  faces  were  all  in  shadow. 

Never  in  her  life  had  Daisy  sung  as  she  did  now. 
The  organ  was  trumpet-toned,  but  it  did  not  over- 
power the  clear,  sweet  voice  that  now  soared 
higher,  fuller,  till  the  man  below  bowed  his  head 
and  put  his  hand  to  his  ej^es.  His  pulses  throbbed 
madly. 

"  Remarkable  voice,  isn't  it  ?  "  Starting,  Tem- 
ple looked  up  to  encounter  a  pair  of  lovely  gray 
eyes,  a  face  arch  in  expression,  surmounting  a 
lithe  little  figure  neatly  robed  in  a  dark-blue 
tailor-made  serge  costume. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they  were  playing  poker 
in  the  study,  should  you  ?  "  was  her  next  remark, 
as  she  sat  down  in  the  seat  in  front  of  him,  an 
innocent  wonder  in  her  face. 


38  IP  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Playing  poker ! "  and  that  was  all  Temple 
could  say. 

"It  does  sound  irreverent,  don't  it?  But,  then, 
clergymen  sometimes  seek  recreation  in  that  way, 
particularly  of  a  Saturday  night,"  she  went  on  in 
a  grave  voice.  "  But  I  do  think  they  should  find 
some  other  place,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  How  do  you  know  they  are  playing  poker? " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  —  how  should  I  ?  they  won't  let 
me  into  the  study.  Even  my  immaculate  Hugh 
plays  cards  sometimes.  You've  noticed  the  shin- 
ing summit  of  the  warden  who  carries  the  plate 
down  the  right-hand  aisle,  haven't  you?  I  call 
him  an  animated  ramrod,  he  is  so  straight.  He 
wouldn't  stoop  to  pick  up  a  twenty-dollar  gold- 
piece,  and  he  never  bends  backward.  He  is 
simply  a  figure  1  with  legs.  You  mustn't  think 
I'm  not  proud  of  him :  I  am,  very.  Hear  that  dear 
girl  sing !  She  certainly  must  have  a  nightingale 
imprisoned  in  her  throat.  I  don't  in  the  least 
know  how  a  nightingale  sings,  but  it  must  be  like. 
I'm  very  fond  of  Daisy  Prince.  She  and  I  are 
great  cronies.  She'll  tell  you  so." 

The  man  was  beginning  to  be  interested  in  this 
little  woman,  whose  mobile  face  flashed  all  over 
with  smiles  and  dimples,  while  her  eyes  talked 
even  more  eloquently  than  her  lips. 


A  LABOR  OF  LOVE.  39 

"Miss  Daisy  has  a  wonderful  voice,"  he  said, 
while  the  sudden  silence  emphasized  his  words. 

"  It  do  seem  like  a  n angel  ob  light  floatin'  roun' 
in  de  upper  air,  fo'  shu,  chile,"  said  the  little 
woman,  with  such  a  purely  African  accent  that  he 
started.  "  That's  what  my  old  nurse  would  say," 
she  added  with  an  arch  smile.  "  But  Daisy  comes 
of  a  singing  family.  Her  mother  had  a  glorious 
voice.  It's  hereditary,"  she  continued.  '•  You  ob- 
serve that  I  place  the  accent  on  the  third  syllable, 
which  I  assure  you  is  the  correct  form.  I  am 
compiling  a  new  dictionary,  in  which  I  change  the 
pronunciation  of  words  in  ordinary  use  to  suit  the 
modern  style.  We  are  advancing  in  everything 
else,  religion  included.  One  gets  weary  of  the 
ancients,  —  at  least  I  do ;  and  that  is  why  I  am 
compiling  this  new  work." 

*»  Indeed !  It  is  a  labor  of  love,  then,"  said 
Temple,  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  woman 
was  a  '•  little  off,"  as  he  designated  it  to  himself. 

'•  Allie  ! "  called  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness. 
A  tall,  slender  figure  came  into  view. 

"  That's  my  incomparable  Hugh,"  the  little 
woman  half  whispered  ;  then,  turning,  asked,  "  Did 
you  get  through  your  little  game  ?  " 

"  Little  game  of  what,  my  dear  ?  "  he  asked. 

u  Poker,  to  be  sure." 

"  My  dear,  what  nonsense  !  "  exclaimed  her  hus- 


40 

band.  "  What  possible  connection  is  there  between 
poker  and  a  vestry-meeting  ?  Is  this  Mr.  Temple  ? 
I  met  you  in  town  once  or  twice."  He  came  for- 
ward to  shake  hands.  "  Alice,  you  provoking  little 
woman,"  he  went  on,  laughing,  "  what  will  Mr. 
Temple  think  of  you?" 

"What  do  you  think  of  me,  Mr.  Temple?" 
asked  the  audacious  little  lady.  "  Never  mind, 
you  needn't  tell  me  now.  I'm  going  up  to  see 
Daisy  —  Oh  !  but  suppose  you  introduce  me,  hus- 
band? Be  very  particular  and  get  the  whole 
name,  —  Mrs.  Alice  Torrent  Demetrius  St.  Albert. 
I  forgot  all  about  the  etiquette  of  the  thing." 

"I  think  you  have  introduced  yourself,"  said 
her  husband,  laughing  at  her  droll  manner.  "  And 
now  you  can  go  to  your  friend,  while  I  talk  with 
Mr.  Temple." 


WHO  IS  HE  41 


CHAPTER  V. 

MRS.  ST.  ALBERT'S  OPINION. 

THERE  was  a  pause  in  the  exercises  up-stairs. 
Rush  Severn  was  leaning  from  his  perch  talking  to 
Daisy,  and  looking  like  a  handsome  Greek,  his 
finely  cut  features  silhouetted  against  the  dark  red 
of  the  organ.  All  the  girls  were  jealous  of  Daisy, 
and,  as  girls  will,  chaffed  her  to  her  face,  and 
talked  against  her  behind  her  back. 

"  Professor,  if  you  ever  will  have  done  talking 
to  Miss  Prince,"  said  Nellie  Ray,  "  I  have  some- 
thing to  ask  you." 

Upon  that  Daisy  turned  away  with  a  reddening 
cheek,  and  would  have  no  more  to  say  to  Rush 
Severn,  who,  much  annoyed,  came  down  from  the 
organ  and  mingled  with  the  girls,  who  immediately 
surrounded  him. 

"Who  in  the  world  is  that  man  down  there 
talking  to  one  of  the  wardens?  "  asked  the  alto, 
Rose  Dimmock,  of  Daisy.  "I've  been  trying  to 
think,  for  I  have  seen  him  before.  He  certainly  is 
handsome." 


42  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"You  mean  Mr.  Andrew  Temple,"  said  Daisy, 
her  speech  and  manner  as  careless  as  was  compati- 
ble with  the  quick  rush  of  feeling  that  thrilled 
her  whenever  she  looked  that  way. 

"  Oh,  I  know  !  Temple  !  It's  that  free-thinker 
who  writes  for  the  General  Review.  Why,  he's 
an  infidel,  or  an  atheist.  Papa  thinks  him  splen- 
did ;  that  is,  he  has  a  splendid  genius  ;  but,  do  you 
know,  I  wouldn't  be  seen  talking  with  him —  a 
man  who  believes  in  nothing  good.  I  wonder  how 
he  happens  to  be  here  to-night." 

"  He  came  with  me,"  said  Daisy  quickly.  "  In- 
fidel or  not,  he  is  one  of  my  brother's  friends. 
And  you  are  mistaken  in  thinking  that  he  believes 
in  nothing  good.  You  were  never  more  mistaken 
in  your  life." 

"All  the  same,  father  says  he  is  a  dangerous 
man,"  said  Rose.  "  He  certainly  is  handsome. 
Probably  Mr.  Prince  knows  nothing  at  all  about 
his  opinions,  or  I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  want  him  for 
a  friend.  I  shouldn't  want  to  know  him." 

"  Probably  you  will  never  have  the  opportunity," 
said  Daisy  dryly,  but  the  words  of  the  girl  had 
planted  a  sting  in  her  bosom.  It  was  impossible 
not  to  be  somewhat  influenced  by  what  Rose  had 
said  in  her  unkind  comments  on  Temple.  It  put 
her  out  of  chord  with  him  for  the  moment, 
although  she  would  not  have  acknowledged  it. 


A  JEALOUS  STAB  43 

It  never  occurred  to  her  that  it  might  be  a  fit  of 
jealous  impertinence  in  Rose,  because  the  hand- 
some organist  made  his  preference  only  too  appar- 
ent ;  for  Rose  was  very  much  in  love  with  Rush 
Severn,  and,  before  Daisy's  advent,  he  had  been 
very  attentive  to  her,  so  she  felt  a  certain  sense  of 
pleasure  in  stabbing  Daisy  with  her  sharp  tongue. 

Meanwhile  Rush  Severn  had  swung  himself  up 
on  the  organ-bench;  and,  annoyed  that  Daisy  per- 
sisted in  ignoring  him,  he  began  playing  a  low, 
tender  prelude  on  the  upper  bank  of  keys,  just  as 
Mrs.  St.  Albert  made  her  appearance  in  the  door- 
way, her  bright,  provoking  face  full  of  mischief. 

"  O  Daisy,  you  little  minx ! "  she  broke  out,  as 
she  came  tripping  towards  her,  ignoring  all  the 
rest,  save  by  a  mere  glance  of  recognition.  "  I 
hope  you  are  through  with  that  horrible  practice. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you.  Let  me  say  just  here,"  she 
added  in  a  whisper,  "  that  he  is  enchanting  —  per- 
fectly delightful :  in  fact,  his  heredity  is  written 
on  his  face,  and  such  a  face !  Don't  mind  me, 
girls,"  she  said  louder  ;  "  go  on  with  your  practice. 
I  only  want  Daisy.  She's  no  account,  you  know, 
only  on  Sundays  ;  "  and,  with  a  mock  grimace,  that 
only  made  her  look  prettier  than  ever,  she  drew 
Daisy  aside. 

The  organist  looked  cross.  He  liked  Mrs.  St. 
Albert ;  she  was  one  of  his  favorites,  and  paid 


44  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

almost  half  of  his  salary;  but  just  now  he  was  in 
the  mood  to  take  offence  easily. 

"  The  practice  must  go  on,  Mrs.  St.  Albert,"  he 
said  stiffly. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  with  one  of 
her  sweetest  smiles,  "only  you  must  do  without 
Daisy.  She  has  sung  enough.  Nightingales  have 
delicate  throats.  Come  on,  my  dear,  where  we 
shall  not  disturb  them,"  continued  the  little  wo- 
man, her  gray  eyes  sparkling.  "  Now,  Mr.  Rush 
Severn,  you  have  my  gracious  permission  to 
proceed." 

The  organist  struck  the  keys  an  energetic  blow, 
and  the  choir  closed  up  without  Daisy. 

"  Who  were  you  talking  about  just  now  ? " 
asked  Daisy.  She  knew  very  well,  but  a  sudden 
hunger  had  come  upon  her  to  hear  more. 

"  His  name  is  Temple,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Albert. 
"  My  adorable  Hugh  introduced  me,  —  or  rather,  I 
introduced  myself.  But,  my  dear,  I  grieve  to  say 
he  is  not  all  he  seems." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?  "  Daisy  asked,  laughing 
at  her  droll  expression. 

"  I  mean,  you  spotless  child,  that  he  is  a  wolf  in 
the  fold  which  you  and  I  barricade  with  our  prayer- 
books.  I  mean  that  his  intellect  is  gigantic,  while 
his  faith  might  be  represented  by  the  cipher  0. 
Don't  you  understand?  He  is  infidel,  atheist, 


I   WARNS   YE,   CHILE  45 

visionary,  and  diffuse  in  his  anti-theological  opin- 
ions. After  talking  with  him  for  ten  minutes  or 
so,  I  have  fathomed  the  man  body  and  soul.  It 
doesn't  take  me  long,  I  assure  you.  And  then 
when  I  accused  Hugh  of  playing  poker  in  the 
study  with  the  rector  "  — 

"O  Mrs.  St.  Albert!"  gasped  Daisy,  "my 
brother  never  played  cards  in  his  life.  Poker! 
and  with  the  vestrymen !  " 

"  Can  you  think  of  anything  more  ludicrous  ?  " 
asked  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  in  her  suave  manner.  "  I 
couldn't,  and  so  I  pictured  them :  my  owl-like 
husband  in  all  the  serenity  of  glistening  baldness ; 
Dr.  Lamprey  with  his  don't-let-us-pray  expression, 
and  his  under  lip  drawn  down;  Mr.  Pounder, 
looking  both  ways,  —  you  know  how  he  squints. 
Oh,  it  is  exquisite  !  I  can  see  it  now.  But  say, 
yo'  chile,  what  fo'  shu  yo'  have  to  do  wid  dat 
brack  infidel?  'Fore  de  Lawd,  I  warns  ye,  chile." 

"  Why,  he  is  a  friend  of  my  brother's,"  said 
Daisy,  laughing. 

"  How  long  has  yo'  had  de  nestimabul  privilege 
of  his  'quaintance  ?  "  was  the  next  question,  asked 
with  true  African  quaintness,  and  an  ominous 
twinkle  of  the  eyes  that  upset  Daisy's  dignity 
again. 

"For  a  month  or  so.  He  don't  come  to  the 
rectory  very  often,"  she  answered,  "  but  my  brother 


46  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

seems  very  fond  of  him."  Daisy  lifted  her  eyes, 
and  then  they  fell,  while  quick  blushes  kindled 
under  tliem. 

"  Oh !  I  see !  "  exclaimed  the  little  woman,  tying 
the  strings  of  her  bonnet  as  she  talked.  "  He  is 
dear  brother's  friend,  consequently  he  is  mine.  He 
is  intellectual,  interesting,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
shortcomings,  handsome  as  a  god.  Just  the  man 
exactly ;  just  the  reticent,  fascinating,  romantic 
personage  to  take  a  young  girl's  fancy." 

"Nonsense!  Mrs.  St.  Albert,"  said  Daisy,  with 
sudden  indignant  warmth.  "  You  have  no  right  to 
talk  to  me  like  that." 

"  Yes,  I  has,  honey.  I's  de  gargin  of  innercense 
whensoeber  I  see  it  in  danger.  How  long  has  de 
good  man  ob  de  rectory  knowed  dis  yer  Marse 
Temple,  honey  ?  Wha's  de  matter  ob  his  habin  a 
family  —  wife  an  chilln's,  maybe  ?  " 

Daisy  shrank  from  her  with  wild,  incredulous 
eyes. 

"  O  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  how  can  you  ?  "  she  cried 
with  a  sort  of  horror.  "  I  know  he's  not  married 
from  what  he  has  said  about  having  no  home  and 
no  ties.  And  what  if  he  were  ?  What  is  it  to 
me  ?  What  should  /  care  ?  What  would  brother 
care  ?  It's  —  it's  so  ridiculous  !  "  she  almost 
sobbed,  and  then  tried  to  laugh,  in  order  to  hide 
her  emotion. 


DEAD  IN  LOVE  47 

"You  sweet,  pallid  little  goose,"  said  Mrs.  St. 
Albert,  with  her  drollest  expression,  and  a  pretty 
caress  that  Daisy  tried  her  best  to  shrink  from ; 
"can't  you  let  me  suppose  a  case?  That  dread- 
fully familiar  friend  of  mine,  Hugh  St.  Albert,  is 
so  proud  of  his  ancestry,  that  he  has  imbued  me 
with  similar  sentiments.  And  yet  he  had  the  mis- 
fortune to  be  born  in  North  Carolina,  for  which 
mishap  I  sincerely  pity  him ;  so  don't  be  angry 
with  me  for  wanting  to  know  your  friend's  antece- 
dents. And  now  I  must  go.  That  saintly  Hugh 
is  waiting  for  me,  and  I  perceive  by  the  motion  of 
his  gloved  forefinger  that  he  expects  me  to  abridge 
my  little  visit,  and  shorten  my  final  remarks. 
Farewell,  then.  I  rather  think  they  are  on  the  last 
amen ;  how  they  do  hold  on,  to  be  sure.  So,  the 
howling  is  done.  Well,  my  dear,"  —  to  Daisy's 
answering  look,  —  "  without  you,  that  is  simply 
what  it  is,  howling."  —  "The  little  goose  is  dead  in 
love  with  him,"  she  added,  sotto  voce,  as  she  kissed 
Daisy  and  went  her  way  out  of  the  choir,  with  a 
bright  nod  to  each  of  the  singers,  and  a  parting 
smile  to  Rush  Severn,  who  returned  it  with  a 
startlingly  dignified  bow,  and  a  wish,  registered 
behind  his  teeth,  not  exactly  complimentary. 

The  singers  went  in  a  body  down-stairs,  laugh- 
ing and  chatting.  Daisy  happened  to  be  next  to 
Hush  Severn. 


48  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  You  will  allow  me  the  pleasure  of  going  home 
with  you  ? "  he  said,  with  an  adoring  glance  that 
was  lost  in  the  semi-darkness. 

"If  —  I  may  have  an  escort,"  Daisy  answered 
haltingly. 

"  Has  your  brother  waited  for  you  ?  "  asked  the 
young  professor. 

"  I  think  not ;  he  has  probably  gone,"  and  now 
they  were  in  the  vestibule.  Temple  stood  leaning 
against  the  south  door.  He  looked  critically  at  the 
young  organist,  who  tossed  his  leonine  curls  and 
gave  him  back  a  somewhat  contemptuous  glance. 

"Very  handsome,"  was  Temple's  first  thought, 
"  and  she  is  with  him.  Just  the  sort  to  catch  the 
fancy  of  a  girl.  Well,  better  so." 

Daisy  went  rather  ahead  of  her  escort  on  the 
stairs.  For  the  world  she  would  not  have  appeared 
too  willing  to  meet  the  man  who  stood  half  in 
shadow,  his  superb  figure  outlined  against  the 
wall,  but  some  occult  impression  made  her  long 
to  get  beyond  the  sphere  of  the  professor  for  fear 
that  Temple  would  disappear. 

"  I  am  going  your  way  again,"  he  said  quietly, 
smiling.  Rush  Severn  heard  him,  and  drew  back. 

"  That  man ! "  he  said  to  himself,  and  a  jealous 
pain  seized  his  heart.  Most  of  the  girls  were 
going  his  way,  and  he  walked  with  them,  silent 
and  moody. 


A  BUSY  THINKER  49 

When  Temple  had  intimated  his  intention, 
Daisy  looked  up  in  his  face  with  her  brightest 
smile,  she  was  so  glad.  No  matter  what  was  said 
about  him,  no  matter  what  he  was,  in  that  supreme 
moment. 

"  If  it  will  not  trouble  you,"  she  said  sweetly. 

"  Trouble  in  this  case  would  be  that  of  pleasing 
myself,"  he  returned  gallantly. 

"Were  you  awfully  bored?"  she  asked,  trying 
to  look  up  in  his  dark  face,  and  failing  even  to 
raise  her  eyes. 

"  Bored, — oh,  no.  I  seldom  allow  myself  to  get 
bored.  I  thought  out  two  short  articles  for  the 
Review,  after  you  stopped  singing.  What  a  pretty, 
curious  little  body  that  Mrs.  St.  Albert  is !  I  have 
met  her  husband  in  the  city." 

"She  is  the  dearest,  the  sweetest,  the  most 
comical  and  peculiar,  of  all  our  Fairstock  friends," 
Daisy  said.  "  We  think  her  original,  almost  a  gen- 
ius in  her  way.  The  sun  is  not  brighter  than  she, 
and  she  shines  equally  in  clear  or  cloudy  weather. 
If  one  is  moody,  or  blue,  her  very  presence  cheers 
and  exhilarates." 

"  Isn't  she  —  rather  —  somewhat  —  loud  ?  "  he 
asked,  searching  for  a  word. 

"  Loud !  do  you  mean  her  voice,  or  her  manner  ? 
A  stranger  might  think  so,  for  when  she  laughs, 
so  clear  and  musical  her  tones  are,  that  they  can 


50  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

be  heard  a  great  ways.  I  think  her  lovely  with 
all  her  little  peculiarities ; "  and,  at  that  moment, 
tripped  by  a  hidden  stone,  Daisy  came  near  falling. 

"  How  thoughtless  of  me !  1  should  have  offered 
you  my  arm,"  he  said,  placing  her  right  arm  care- 
fully within  his  own.  "  There,  that  is  better." 

Daisy  thrilled  with  both  fear  and  pleasure,  and 
felt  a  mild  disgust  at  herself  for  having  stumbled. 
He  had  actually  caught  her  and  held  her  for  one 
brief  second.  At  the  rectory  gate  he  bade  her  a 
grave  good-night,  lifted  his  hat,  and  disappeared  in 
the  darkness.  It  did  not  occur  to  Daisy  as  strange, 
till  afterward,  that  Margy  stood  on  the  door-sill, 
with  a  lamp,  anxiously  looking  out,  her  head  and 
face  still  tied  up  in  a  big  handkerchief. 

"  He  went  and  he  came,  didn't  he  ?  "  she  asked 
with  a  grim  smile. 

"  Who  ?  Oh,  you  mean  Mr.  Temple.  Yes,  but 
what  in  the  world  were  you  on  the  lookout  for? 
and  have  you  neuralgia  still  ?  " 

"I  —  was  looking  for  something  —  that  —  Zue 
lost,"  said  the  woman,  in  a  smothered  voice ;  "  and 
I'm  always  having  neuralgia,  off  and  on." 

Daisy  peeped  into  the  study.  The  fire  burned 
low.  Her  brother  sat  in  his  wide  easy-chair  smok- 
ing and  reading. 

"  Still  at  that  book  ?  "  asked  Daisy. 

"  Still  at  that  book,"  he  answered. 


IS  HE  Atf  ATHEIST  51 

"  Don't  you  get  tired  ?     It  tired  me  awfully." 

"  No,  for  you  see  I'm  reading  with  running  com- 
ments which  I  pencil  down.  It's  a  mild  stimulant, 
the  same  as  this  cigar  is  a  mild  sedative.  The 
two  go  together  very  well.  Temple  went  home 
early,  I  suppose,"  he  added,  taking  the  cigar  from 
between  his  lips. 

"No;  he  went  to  rehearsal  with  me." 

"  Ah !  "  the  word  was  mildly  emphasized.  "  Well, 
I  hope  you  gave  him  something  worth  going  for. 
Rehearsals  are  such  stupid  things." 

"  I  sang  two  solos." 

She  stood  in  the  firelight,  the  prettiest  picture 
imaginable,  with  her  soft  dove's  eyes  and  her  rich 
color.  "  Mr.  Temple  very  kindly  saw  me  home," 
she  added,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Ah !  of  course.  Temple  is  a  perfect  gentle- 
man, a  fine  scholar,  and  a  true  friend." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  Daisy  said  in 
the  calmest  voice,  though  her  heart  beat  furiously. 
"  I  heard  some  very  unkind  comments  on  him, 
to-night." 

"  By  whom,  pray  ?  "  He  had  resumed  smoking, 
and  his  eyes  travelled  to  the  pages  of  his  book 
again. 

"  One  of  the  girls  in  the  choir.  Arthur,  is  he 
an  atheist  ?  "  she  asked,  moving  a  little  closer  to 
him 


52  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  An  atheist ! "  he  looked  up  in  indignant  sur- 
prise ;  "  nothing  like  it.  He  has  the  fewest  faults 
and  the  most  virtues  of  any  man  I  know.  Why 
won't  people  mind  their  own  business  !  " 

"  Rose  Dimmock  said  he  wrote  terrible  things," 
she  went  on,  leaning  her  hand  on  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

"  Nonsense !  what  does  she  know  about  it  ?  He 
has  a  wonderful  mind.  There  are  certain  things 
on  which  we  don't  agree,  but  he  is  a  good  man  for 
all  that.  You  youngsters  know  nothing  of  the 
vagaries  of  a  strong  man's  mind.  I'm  not  a  bit 
afraid  for  Temple.  He  will  come  out  all  right. 
Such  men  make  the  sturdiest  Christians  when  they 
do  come  round.  I  wish  he  would  fall  in  love  with 
some  good  woman.  She  would  set  him  right." 

She  was  shining  now  from  eyes  to  lips.  Bend- 
ing over,  all  of  a  tremble  of  doubt  and  delight, 
she  kissed  him.  The  action,  or  something  about 
it,  seemed  to  take  him  by  surprise.  He  followed 
her  pretty  figure  to  the  door  with  his  eyes.  Then 
he  looked  at  the  fire  intently,  fighting  with  some 
conviction  that  had  just  seized  him. 

"  Pshaw !  "  he  muttered,  turning  to  his  book. 
"  He  is  seventeen  years  older  !  " 


I  MUST  WRITE  53 


CHAPTER  VI. 

MAEGY  WRITES. 

HE  went  with  her  and  he  came  back  with  her. 
I  thought  so,  though  I  didn't  see  them  go.  I 
should  like  to  know  the  precise  location  of  that 
power  that  sets  things  to  work  again  after  we 
have  buried  our  past  and  begun  a  new  life.  I 
should  like  to  know  why  some  poor  humans  are  to 
be  persecuted  and  shaken  up  when  they've  settled 
down  to  right  lives  and  good  resolutions,  and 
shut  out  memories  here  and  there,  and  closed  the 
door  to  old  temptations  and  new  ones  too.  It 
don't  seem  right  to  me. 

At  this  present  moment  I  am  in  wonderful 
command  of  myself,  but  how  is  it  going  to  end  ? 
I  can't  tell  anybody,  and  that  is  why  I  must  write 
it  all  out.  It  would  set  me  crazy,  perhaps,  if  I 
couldn't  do  that;  for  once  in  a  while  the  old 
wicked  passion  springs  up,  and  I  could  kill  him. 
Poor  as  I  am,  and  trying  hard  to  save  money  for 
Zue's  education,  I'd  give  the  little  all  I've  got  in 
the  bank,  if  that  man  had  never  set  foot  in  this 


54  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

rectory.  The  first  time  I  saw  him,  he  didn't  see 
ine,  and  I  ran  and  hid  myself,  crying  out,  "  Lord 
God,  where  did  he  come  from  ? "  It  sent  the 
blood  rushing  to  my  head,  and  for  the  first  few 
minutes  I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  Coming 
to  myself,  Zue  stood  holding  my  gown  and  crying. 
I  could  have  struck  her,  she  looked  so  much  like 
him.  Then  my  senses  came  back  to  me,  and  I  sat 
down  and  gathered  my  thoughts  together,  wonder- 
ing what  was  to  be  done.  Can  I  be  mistaken? 
No,  I  can't.  What  shall  I  do  ?  Leave  this  place  ? 
No,  I  couldn't  go  away.  It  would  be  like  death 
for  me  to  leave  these  people  who  love  and  trust 
me  so.  No  other  place  under  heaven  would  seem 
like  home  to  me.  I'm  rooted  here  like  a  plant 
that  strikes  a  thousand  fibres  into  the  ground  and 
dies  if  one  of  them  is  broken.  Mrs.  Prince  is  a 
saint  upon  earth.  There  never  was  such  a  woman 
before,  and  I  always  think  of  that  wonderful 
namesake  when  I  see  her  with  her  babies  in  her 
arms.  How  I  love  her  no  one  will  ever  know  till 
I  get  to  that  place  where  all  our  thoughts  are  seen 
in  our  very  breasts,  as  if  through  glass. 

He,  Mr.  Prince,  is  to  me,  also,  the  image  of  Him 
whose  servant  he  is.  Where  should  I  have  been 
now,  but  for  him,  let  me  ask  ?  A  rotting  corpse 
and  an  evil  soul,  with  the  ghost  of  a  little  child 
without  chances  or  opportunities,  in  my  arms, 


CAN'T  THEY  SEE  55 

seeking  rest  and  finding  none.  Evil  was  in  my 
heart,  and  it's  all  of  him  that  I'm  a  living,  think- 
ing woman.  It  was  all  through  that  other  that  I 
lost  sight  of  home,  duty,  every  sense  of  right, 
almost.  Even  now  a  mighty  longing  for  revenge 
rises  up  in  my  heart  at  sight  of  his  eyes.  I  can't 
look  at  him  or  I'm  bewitched.  It's  love  and  hate 
fighting  together,  two  flames  hot  from  an  evil 
nature ;  and  one  of  them  must  win,  even  if  I  fight 
hard  and  pray  all  the  time. 

Then  there's  Zue  ;  let  me  look  at  her.  She  lies 
in  my  bed,  her  hair  almost  covering  the  pillow. 
Good  Lord !  can't  they  see  who  she  looks  like  ? 
Poor  child !  she  has  to  bear  all  the  marks  of  her 
mother's  suffering,  —  a  hateful  temper,  a  nervous 
shrinking  from  others,  moods,  strange  wild  spirits, 
and  then,  again,  such  despondency  that  I  must 
watch  lest  she  destroy  herself.  And  all  this  with 
a  craving  for  knowledge,  genius  in  every  direction, 
passionate  outbursts  of  love,  and  I  to  see  it  daily,, 
and  know  the  reason  why !  Pretty,  too,  poor  soul. 
Sometimes  I  wish  she  were  ugly.  I  think  I  should 
pity  and  love  her  more,  for  now  in  her  paroxysms 
of  rage  all  the  father  shows  in  her  face,  and  that 
enrages  me.  If  it  wasn't  for  her  love  for  Miss 
Daisy,  who  is  as  much  like  the  angels  in  heaven 
as  her  brother  and  sister  are,  I  should  give  up  in 
despair.  Thank  God,  there  is  somebody  who  can 


56  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

bring  the  child  to  reason,  and  shame  her  into  good 
behavior ! 

Miss  Daisy  is  the  sweetest  flower  in  the  flock ; 
but,  oh,  heaven !  there  is  a  change  in  her.  The 
first  time  he  came,  and  the  second,  she  met  him. 
Then,  to-day,  he  stopped  to  tea.  He  is  gaining 
ground ;  he  is  winning  her  with  those  deadly,  coax- 
ing eyes.  I  don't  know  whether  he  tries  or  not, 
but  I  believe  he  does. 

He  is  changed  now :  he  has  made  a  great  name, 
while  I  have  been  working  as  a  servant.  He  has 
sown  his  wild  oats,  but  at  what  a  cost !  The  Lord 
have  mercy  upon  him,  for  some  day  I  shall  speak ! 
If  I  could  only  do  it  now ! 

The  rector  likes  him.  They  have  great  good 
times  together.  What  can  I  say?  What  can  I 
do?  No,  I  will  not  speak,  if  I  die.  And  yet, 
Miss  Daisy !  Well,  if  he  has  sown  his  wild  oats, 
if  he  has  come  out  strong  and  great,  and  become 
famous,  if,  in  a  word,  he  has  changed  from  bad  to 
good  —  but  —  oh,  heaven  !  when  I  think  of  the 
child  lying  there ! 

It  was  only  a  few  days  ago  that  Daisy  spoke  to 
me  of  him.  I  don't  know  what  brought  it  up. 
Perhaps  it  was  something  I  said. 

"  I  notice  that  you  never  send  him  about  his 
business  as  you  do  the  rest  when  my  brother  is  at 
work,"  she  said. 


I'M  ONLY  A  SERVANT  57 

I  didn't  tell  her  then  how  I  kept  watch  that  I 
might  not  see  him,  always  sending  Zue  to  the  door 
to  let  him  in. 

"  Do  you  think  him  very  handsome  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  I  do.  He  has  a  strong  face,  yet  gentle," 
she  said.  "  I  never  saw  a  handsomer  man.  What 
do  you  think  ?  "  I  noticed  she  didn't  look  at  me 
as  she  spoke.  Why  shouldn't  she  ? 

"  Well,  candidly,  Miss  Daisy,"  I  said,  in  a  voice 
that  hid  my  real  feelings,  "  I  don't  like  him." 

"  You  don't !  "  and  now  she  looked  up,  her  sweet 
eyes  searching  my  face.  "  You  must  look  at  him 
again.  My  brother  likes  him,  and  thinks  him  a 
wonderful  man,  intellectually.  Almost  everybody 
thinks  him  handsome:  why,  where  are  your  eyes, 
Margy  ?  " 

"  I'm  only  a  servant,  miss,"  I  said,  striving  to 
speak  calmly,  while  my  brain  was  whirling. 

"  You  know  we  don't  look  upon  you  as  only  a 
servant,  Margy,"  said  Daisy.  "You  are  our 
friend,  and  oftentimes  our  comforter." 

Then  my  child  must  put  in  her  little  oar,  for 
she  spoke  up,  — 

"  Miss  Daisy,  he's  a  beautiful  gentleman ;  but 
my  mother  hates  people,  sometimes.  Yes,  she 
does,  for  she  hates  me,  and "  — 

"That's  when  you're  wicked,"  I  says.  "And 
it  don't  matter  what  I  think,  for  I  am  a  servant. 


58 

And,  as  for  Zue,  she  must  never  forget  her  posi- 
tion. Friend  I  may  be,  and  am ;  but  still,  here  in 
the  kitchen  is  my  place  and  duty,  and  hers  too. 
If  I  can  give  her  a  good  education,  when  she 
learns  to  conquer  her  vile  temper,  I  hope  she  will 
lift  us  both ;  but  we  shall  never  be  the  worse  for 
having  had  to  work  for  our  living." 

Daisy  —  Miss  Daisy,  I  should  say  —  looked  at 
me.  She  saw  a  something  in  my  manner  more  than 
in  my  words.  What  she  didn't  see  was  the  war- 
ring of  different  feelings  in  my  bosom  which  I 
must  keep  forever  shut  from  her  eyes.  So  to-night 
I  watched  her  at  the  table.  I  noticed  when  she 
looked  at  him  her  color  came  and  her  eyes  fell. 
And  he  looked  back  as  if  —  oh,  Lord!  I  can't 
write  it. 

And  then  Zue,  when  I  was  undressing  that 
night,  must  turn  upon  me  like  a  little  wild-cat. 

"  Where  are  my  cousins,  my  Margy  ?  "  —  for  so 
she  often  calls  me.  "  Where  are  my  uncles  and 
aunts,  such  as  Miss  Daisy  talks  of  ?  She's  got  a 
grandmother.  Who  is  my  grandmother  ?  And  if 
my  papa  is  dead,  where  is  he  buried  ?  Why  don't 
you  take  me  to  his  grave,  so  I  can  see?  And 
where  are  our  folks,  our  own  folks  ?  " 

That,  coupled  with  my  own  thoughts,  raised  in 
me  the  wicked  temper  that  has  been  the  bane  of 
my  life.  I  felt  it  coming  hot  and  heavy,  and 


INTO  THE  BOWELS  OF  THE  SEA  59 

began  to  shake  little  Zue.  Then  I  stopped  short, 
and  had  it  out  with  myself,  instead.  I  shut  the 
blinds,  slamming  them.  I  shut  the  window  with 
all  the  force  I  could,  and  gave  the  bedstead  a 
wrench  that  ought  to  have  broken  it. 

"  Say,  my  Margy,  say,"  cried  the  child  persist- 
ently. 

"  I  can't  say,"  I  cried,  not  daring  to  touch  her 
for  fear  of  what  I  might  do.  "  Your  grandmother 
is  dead,  and  so  I  suppose  is  your  grandfather. 
You  haven't  any  cousins.  I  was  an  only  child. 
As  for  uncles  and  aunts,  there  may  be  a  few  of 
them  alive,  but  they  don't  care  for  you  or  me,  and 
if  you  want  to  find  your  father's  grave,  you  must 
go  down,  down,  into  the  bowels  of  the  sea,  where 
he  lies  drowned  and  dead." 

The  sea  is  my  poor  soul,  where  he  has  lain 
drowned  and  dead  —  till  now.  God  forgive  me 
for  the  lie  I  told  her. 


60  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE   WILL 


CHAPTER  VII. 

MARGY  WRITES. 

STOP  !  Suppose,  to  calm  myself,  I  write  down 
the  whole  story. 

When  I  was  a  child,  I  lived  in  a  country  town, 
the  prettiest  place  in  the  world,  I  think,  even  as  I 
look  back  upon  it  now.  1  see  the  low-roofed 
parsonage,  so  peaceful,  so  picturesque,  at  the  foot 
of  a  green  hill  that  stretched  so  far  away.  It 
always  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  end  of  the  world 
was  beyond  it,  and  it  would  not  take  long  to  reach 
it.  I  must  have  been  a  strange,  restless  child,  for 
I  was  always  longing  to  travel,  to  get  beyond 
things,  to  go  behind  the  sun  as  I  expressed  it.  I 
wearied  everybody  with  my  questions  as  to  the 
outside  world. 

Our  house  was  old,  but  cosey  and  comfortable. 
Don't  I  remember  the  little  sitting-room  where  my 
mother  sat,  pale  and  beautiful,  and,  as  I  know  now, 
suffering?  The  perfect  autumn  days  come  back 
to  me,  with  the  scent  of  the  wild-flowers  by  the 
wayside,  as  I  walked  to  school  or  went  to  church. 


A  YOUNG  COQUETTE  61 

My  constant  playmate  was  Inez  Burns.  The  child 
suited  me.  On  her  mother's  side  she  was  Spanish, 
Scotch  on  her  father's,  a  wild  and  daring  spirit, 
not,  perhaps,  the  best  companion  for  an  excitable 
girl  like  me.  She  had  always  been  left  to  her  own 
way  and  devices,  but  she  was  honest  as  the  day. 

At  home  I  was  penned  in,  secluded,  doomed  at 
times  to  strict  silence.  If  my  mother  was  worse 
than  usual,  I  must  make  no  noise.  If  my  father 
was  in  his  study,  all  exciting  plays  were  forbid- 
den. Home,  to  me,  was  a  place  of  restraint.  My 
father,  a  gloomy  man,  seldom  smiled,  and  scarcely 
noticed  me,  unless  by  some  remarkable  freak  of 
memory  I  had  learned  more  Bible  verses  than 
usual.  I  liked  the  old  ivy-covered  church.  Gray 
and  sombre  outside,  it  was  exceedingly  cheerful 
within.  There  I  was  always  made  much  of  as  the 
minister's  daughter.  Everybody  petted  me.  In  the 
estimation  of  the  plain  country  people,  I  could  do 
no  wrong.  They  praised  my  eyes,  my  hair,  my 
complexion.  I  was  at  eleven  as  vain  and  coquet- 
tish as  most  girls  are  at  eighteen.  At  home  there 
was  but  scant  praise  for  me.  I  loved  my  mother, 
loved  to  anticipate  her  wishes,  to  talk,  to  read  to 
her,  to  comb  and  curl  her  soft,  pretty  hair;  and 
when  she  was  well,  home  was  endurable.  My 
father,  I  feared.  He  was  naturally  austere,  suf- 
fered greatly  from  dyspepsia,  and  expected  too 


62  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

much  of  me.  Inez  Burns  was  my  solace,  my 
comforter,  my  idol.  Like  myself,  she  had  a  fond- 
ness for  forbidden  pleasures.  She  and  I  wrote 
plays  in  secret.  Oh,  the  delicious  remembrance 
of  those  stolen  delights !  The  old  baize  doors  of 
the  church  witnessed  our  entrances  and  exits. 
Together  we  would  get  up  costumes  at  home ;  and, 
as  the  sexton  was  very  old  and  indulgent  to  me,  it 
was  never  difficult  to  obtain  the  church-keys. 

So  passed  the  days  till  my  mother  died,  when  I 
was  sixteen.  The  horror,  the  black  despair  of  that 
time,  the  insane  longing  to  die  and  lie  beside  her,  all 
come  back  to  me  now,  with  a  rush  of  recollection 
that  forces  the  hot  tears  to  my  eyes.  Why,  oh, 
my  God !  did  I  not  die  then  ?  If  I  had  only  gone 
with  her !  After  that,  home  was  like  a  tomb.  I 
went  where  I  listed,  for  my  father  buried  himself 
more  and  more  in  his  books.  If  he  had  only 
turned  to  me  for  consolation,  but  he  never  did. 
Instead,  he  sent  me  to  a  distant  school;  and  about 
that  time,  to  my  great  delight,  Inez  Burns  moved 
into  the  city.  It  did  not  take  much  to  prevail 
upon  her  mother  to  send  her  to  school  with  me.  I 
was  without  guardianship.  Inez  might  as  well 
have  been,  for  all  the  care  her  mother  exercised 
over  her. 

Sometimes  we  were  allowed  to  go  to  concerts, 
sometimes  to  the  theatres.     I  was  infatuated  with 


JUST  FOR  FUN  63 

the  stage,  so  was  Inez.  One  day  we  read  of  a 
celebrated  opera  troupe  on  its  way  to  the  Far  West. 
A  dozen  girls  were  advertised  for  to  make  up  a 
deficiency  in  the  chorus  corps.  Inez  and  I  were 
wild  over  the  matter. 

"Just  for  fun,"  she  said,  "let's  answer  it — or 
better  yet,  suppose  we  go  in  person.  Of  course 
they  may  not  want  us,  but  I  flatter  myself  they 
will.  Won't  it  be  splendid  to  travel  ?  I'm  so 
tired  of  this  commonplace  life.  We  can  both 
read  music  fairly  well,  and  I  know  they  can  find 
no  fault  with  our  faces." 

It  took  but  little  argument  to  conquer  what 
little  prejudice  I  felt  concerning  the  matter.  I 
did  not  like  school,  equally  I  disliked  my  home. 
For  one  moment  my  father's  proud,  slight  figure 
came  up  before  me  —  his  stern  face  with  its  pier- 
cing eyes,  and  then  I  thought,  "  What  does  he  care 
for  me  ?  "  I  knew  he  would  never  forgive  such 
an  escapade,  and  I  felt  abundantly  able  and  more 
than  willing  to  take  care  of  myself. 

So  we  went  to  the  manager's  den.  The  great 
man  was  there.  He  asked  a  few  questions,  was 
evidently  pleased  with  our  appearance,  with  the 
strikingly  beautiful  eyes  of  my  companion,  with 
my  face  and  figure,  and  engaged  us  on  the  spot. 

Three  o'clock,  and  the  house  as  silent  as  the 
grave.  I  must  write  no  more  to-night.  When  it 


64  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

will  please  Heaven  to  give  me  another  opportunity, 
— and  that  is  only  another  way  of  saying  when  I  am 
in  the  mood  for  writing,  —  I  cannot  tell,  but  I  will 
try  again,  soon.  Already  I  feel  the  pressure  of 
that  terrible  weight  on  my  brain  less  heavy. 
But  God  help  and  save  Miss  Daisy  ! 


BELIEVES  IN  HIS  OWN  WAY  65 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

IN  THE  ORGAN-LOFT.  —  "WHY  CANNOT  I  LETL 
THAT  GIRL   ALONE  ?  " 

"  BUT  what  is  law  ?  You  will  answer,  It  is  an 
orderly  procedure.  Its  character  does  not  vary. 
The  fact  itself  precedes  the  science  of  the  fact. 
Can  faith  precede  any  knowledge  of  the  thing 
which  it  embraces  ?  No :  you  presume,  you  accept 
blindly,  you  are  visionaries.  You  '  believe  in  a 
thing  of  whose  reality  you  know  nothing." 

It  was  Temple  who  spoke. 

"You  believe  in  nothing,  then,  but  what  you 
can  see,  taste,  and  smell  ?  "  said  the  rector. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  believe  in  everything,  but  after  my 
own  fashion,"  laughed  Temple. 

At  that  moment  Daisy  passed.  By  the  hand 
she  held  Zue,  who  was  smiling  and  chatting  good- 
humoredly. 

"  That's  a  strange  child,"  the  rector  said.  "  What 
do  you  think  I  found  her  doing  yesterday  ?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  imagine,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Reading  Robert  Elsmere,  perched  on  the  arm 
of  my  study-chair." 


66  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

"  Rather  advanced  literary  tastes,"  said  Temple. 

"Absorbed  in  it  —  and  I've  no  doubt  she  will 
read  it  through.  Another  day  I  found  this  sketch, 
copied  from  my  old-fashioned  Bible,  'Death  on 
the  Pale  Horse.'  It  is  drawn  on  a  sheet  of  my 
sermon-paper.  What  do  you  think  of  it?  " 

"  There  is  a  hint  of  genius  in  every  line,"  said 
Temple.  "  The  child's  talent  should  be  culti- 
vated." 

"  Yes,  it  should  be ;  but  the  creature  is  such  a 
freak  !  One  day  she  is  dull,  stupid,  and,  if  I  may 
say  it,  possessed  of  the  devil,  a  sullen  devil  too. 
Another,  so  bright  and  spirited  and  magnetic, 
that  everybody  is  delighted  with  her.  I  don't 
understand  her.  I  gave  up  trying,  long  ago." 

Daisy  looked  up  at  that  moment,  and  smiled  and 
nodded.  The  child  gave  a  grotesque  imitation  of 
smile  and  nod,  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  The  mother  is  in  your  service,"  said  Temple 
musingly,  his  eyes  following  Daisy's  retreating 
figure. 

"  Yes ;  and  a  superior  woman.  Zue  inherits 
genius  from  some  dead  and  gone  ancestor.  With 
one  stroke  of  her  pencil,  as  you  see,  she  delineates 
both  strength  and  grace.  She  is  passionately  fond 
of  music,  and  will  sometimes  talk  poetry  in  her 
wild,  visionary  moments  by  the  hour.  A  very 
singular  organization  on  the  whole,  sensitive, 


A  BAFFLING  RESEMBLANCE  67 

proud,  passionate,  losing  at  times  all  control  of  her- 
self, in  her  paroxysms  of  temper.  Daisy  is  the 
only  person  who  can  control  her  when  she  has, 
what  her  mother  calls,  her  spasms." 

"  And  you  say  her  mother  is  a  superior  woman," 
said  Temple. 

"  Yes,  somewhat  cultured  and  a  splendid  house- 
keeper," was  the  answer.  "  I  have  never  inquired 
very  particularly  into  her  antecedents.  She  was 
married  very  young,  and  I  judge  not  happily.  On 
all  pertaining  to  her  past  she  is  singularly  reticent. 
Her  loss  would  be  irreparable." 

"  There  is  something  peculiar  about  the  child's 
face,"  said  Temple  ;  "  she  both  attracts  and  repels 
me.  Curious,  she  seems  to  resemble  somebody  I 
know,  but  when  I  search  for  the  likeness  I  lose  it 
again.  But  I  must  go,  —  I  have  letters  to  write," 
he  added,  rising.  "  I  was  passing,  and  the  house 
looked  so  cosey,  nestling  in  its  vines  in  the  sunlight, 
that  I  felt  impelled  to  come  in." 

"  That's  right.  You  can  never  come  too  often," 
said  the  rector  heartily.  "  You're  never  in  the 
way,  you  know." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  nearer  heaven  here  than  in 
any  other  place,"  was  the  smiling  answer,  and 
the  man  went  out  in  somewhat  needless  haste. 
The  truth  was,  he  wanted  to  overtake  Daisy. 
The  flutter  of  her  graceful  dress  could  be  seen 


68  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

at  the  distant  corner  she  was  at  that  moment 
turning. 

"Making  for  the  church,"  he  said  to  himself, 
and  hurried  a  little. 

At  that  moment  who  should  come  up  but  Rush 
Severn,  so  near  that  he  touched  Temple  in  passing. 
The  young  fellow  had  a  roll  of  music  under  his 
arm,  and  seemed  in  a  hurry.  Temple  caught  one 
flash  of  his  handsome  eyes;  the  bright,  curling 
hair  was  stirred  by  the  wind,  against  the  brim  of 
his  broad  hat;  the  lithe  young  figure  bounded 
along.  The  very  sight  of  so  much  youth,  strength, 
symmetry,  stayed  the  steps  of  the  older  man. 

"  He  is  probably  going  to  give  her  a  lesson," 
he  said  to  himself.  "What  a  fool  I  am!  Why 
cannot  I  let  that  girl  alone  ?  The  boy  loves  her, 
—  one  of  the  kind  that  wears  his  heart  on  his 
sleeve,  —  and  they  are  suited  in  age,  temperament, 
tastes.  He  is  better  fitted  for  her  than  I  am,  who 
am  almost  twice  her  age.  Let  me  go  on  my  way, 
as  I  long  ago  decided  to  do  —  and  fling  thoughts 
of  love  to  the  winds." 

Meantime  Daisy,  knowing  nothing  of  her  follow- 
ing, went  to  the  little  old  cottage  where  the  old 
sexton  lived,  took  down  the  keys,  as  was  her  priv- 
ilege, and  from  there  walked  on  to  the  church, 
where  the  organ-blower  had  preceded  her.  Noth- 
ing in  the  world  was  a  greater  treat  to  Zue  than 


A  SURPRISE  69 

to  be  allowed  to  sit  in  the  organ-loft  while  Daisy 
manipulated  the  old  yellowed  keys  of  the  organ. 
Daisy  was  practising  secretly,  in  order  to  surprise 
her  brother,  who  played  the  organ  himself  with  a 
power  and  delicacy  which  could  only  be  the  out- 
come of  genius,  since  he  knew  nothing  about 
music,  and  his  improvisations  were  so  startling  in 
beauty  and  originality,  that  they  won  praise  from 
life-long  students  of  that  noble  instrument. 

She  had  been  practising  for  some  time  when  an 
unusual  movement  on  Zue's  part  startled  her,  and, 
turning,  she  saw  Rush  Severn  looking  up  from 
one  of  the  singer's  seats. 

The  color  flew  all  over  her  face. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  when  I  locked  myself 
in  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  voice  as  severe  in  its  modu- 
lations as  she  could  make  it. 

"The  sexton  came  in  by  the  study-door,"  he 
humbly  answered;  "and  I  came  in  with  him. 
Pray  forgive  me.  I  heard  the  organ,  and  thought 
it  was  the  rector.  He  never  minds,  so  I  came. 
But,  upon  my  word,  you  surprise  me.  Who 
taught  you  to  play  so  well  ?  How  long  have  you 
been  practising  ?  " 

Daisy  jumped  agilely  from  her  high  perch,  evi- 
dently much  relieved  when  she  stood  upon  terra 
firma,  though  her  cheeks  were  still  red,  and  her 
manner  disconcerted. 


70  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  I  only  play  now  and  then.  I  remember  what 
I  hear ;  and  I  have  watched  you,  at  times."  She 
was  surprised  into  a  blush  by  the  flash  of  light 
that  illumined  his  face. 

"  That  is  the  greatest  compliment  I  ever  received 
in  my  life,"  he  said. 

She  moved  back  uneasily,  dismayed  by  the  fer- 
vor of  his  speech,  and  provoked  by  the  curtail- 
ment of  her  practice.  Having  given  herself  two 
hours,  at  was  rather  annoying  to  be  deprived  of  a 
full  hour,  for  now  she  could  not  think  of  remain- 
ing any  longer. 

"Any  enthusiast  in  music  might  do  the  same 
thing,"  she  said.  "  I  love  the  organ,  it  has  a  soul 
in  every  note  —  and  I  should  like  to  play  it  well." 

"  Then  you  shall,"  he  answered,  his  dark  eyes 
sparkling.  "  I  should  be  delighted  to  teach  so  apt 
a  pupil,  just  for  the  pleasure  of  it.  Any  day  you 
say,  I  can  give  you  one  hour,  two  hours."  He 
looked  eagerly  in  her  eyes,  his  face  all  aglow. 

"  I  couldn't  possibly  think  of  it,"  she  said.  "  I 
have  really  more  to  do  than  I  ought  with  my  vocal 
and  piano  lessons.  No,  it  will  be  all  I  can  do  to 
come  now  and  then  in  the  old  church  and  practise. 
Oh,  I  never  expect  to  become  a  proficient  on  the 
organ.  But  I  can  please  myself." 

She  had  quite  regained  her  usual  quiet  manner, 
and  forgotten  to  be  vexed  at  his  presence  as  she 


THE  ONE  GREAT  EVENT  71 

stood  tying  the  strings  of  her  hat,  while  the  child 
at  her  side  followed  her  example. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  delight  to  have  a  pupil  to 
whom  this  kind  of  work  is  not  the  drudgery  it  is 
to  some.  Don't  go  just  now.  Please  me  by 
listening  to  a  little  trifle  I  composed  yesterday. 
What  it  is  worth  to  others  I  don't  know,  but  it 
pleases  me." 

"It  is  very  beautiful,"  she  said  frankly,  as  in- 
deed it  was.  "You  should  put  words  to  it." 

"  So  I  think,"  he  said,  his  face  brighter  as  he 
turned  and  looked  down  upon  her  from  the  high 
organ-seat.  "  I  am  going  to  ask  the  rector  to  com- 
pose some.  He  writes  such  rare  poetry,  and  is  so 
very  kind !  Must  you  really  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  must,"  Daisy  said,  moving  off  in  ear- 
nest. Zue  followed  her,  but  turned  back  to  look 
once  again  at  the  professor,  whose  music  and  face 
both  charmed  her. 

"  Are  you  going  to  Mrs.  St.  Albert's  party  ?  " 
Rush  Severn  asked.  He  had  swung  himself  from 
his  seat  and  gone  after  them. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  I  am  going  there,"  Daisy 
said,  drawing  on  her  glove.  "  It  is  the  one  great 
event  of  the  year  in  this  town." 

"Then  I  shall  see  you  there." 

Daisy  nodded  and  ran  down-stairs,  followed 
closely  by  Zue  and  Rush  Severn.  She  liked  the 


72  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

man.  He  was  pleasant  to  know,  but  what  girl 
cannot  discern  the  tokens  of  worship  under  the 
guise  of  apparent  friendship  ?  Daisy  did  not  say 
to  herself  that  Rush  Severn  loved  her :  she  only 
said  of  herself,  that  she  could  never  love  him. 


ZUE'S  PERVERSITY  73 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"I  WISH  IT   HAD   BEEN   MY    SHROUD." 

ONE  day  in  the  following  week,  Zue  had  been 
perverse  and  hateful  since  the  early  morning,  and 
now  it  was  nearly  twilight.  It  began  with  Mr. 
Temple's  call. 

"  There's  that  man  coming.  He  has  opened  the 
gate  and  is  stopping  there,"  her  mother  said,  paus- 
ing in  her  work  and  turning  to  the  child. 

"  No,  you  must  go  this  time,"  said  the  girl, 
standing  quite  still.  "You  send  me  every  time 
he  comes.  I  am  getting  tired  of  it." 

"  Zue,  if  you  don't  go  !  "  her  mother  said  threat- 
eningly, setting  her  iron  down.  "Do  you  see 
how  busy  I  am  ?  " 

"  You  send  me  when  you're  not  busy,"  said  the 
child  sullenly.  "  You  never  will  go." 

"  Are  you  going,  Zue  ?  "  and  her  mother  gave 
her  a  terrible  glance. 

"  No,"  said  Zue  firmly,  putting  her  hands  behind 
her,  "  I  hate  him." 

"  All  right.     He   is  Miss  Daisy's  friend.     She 


74  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

lov  —  likes  him.  I'll  tell  her  you  hate  her 
friend." 

"  No ! "  the  girl  started  and  ran  to  the  door  as 
fast  as  her  feet  could  carry  her.  Another  moment 
she  came  back  and  threw  herself  on  the  floor  in  a 
fit  of  the  sulks,  till  Daisy  came  singing  along  the 
passage. 

Margy  looked  up  as  Daisy  entered  the  kitchen, 
asking  for  something  for  the  twins.  The  woman 
took  from  the  clothes-horse  some  things  white  as 
snow-drifts  with  the  sun  shining  on  them,  and 
laid  them  upon  Daisy's  arm,  still  looking  in  her 
face. 

"No,"  she  said  to  herself,  "she  don't  know 
he's  here." 

"  I'm  going  to  the  organ-loft,  Zue,"  said  Daisy. 
Zue  was  all  attention  now.  Her  great  eyes 
glowed.  The  blue  veins  on  her  temples  stood 
out. 

"  There  are  millions  of  voices,  millions  there, 
ain't  there,  Miss  Daisy?"  she  said  slowly  as  if 
speaking  to  herself.  "  The  children  sing,  and  the 
men  and  women,  and  then  come  in  all  the  full 
bands." 

"  You  shall  go  with  me,  Zue,  if  you  have  been 
good,"  Daisy  said,  with  her  sweet  smile.  "Put 
your  hat  on  if  you  have  had  your  breakfast,  and 
come." 


A  CHILD'S  FANCIES.  75 

"She  hasn't  eaten  a  mouthful  this  morning," 
her  mother  said. 

"  I'll  eat  something  now,"  and  the  child  flew  to 
the  cracker-box  and  began  cramming  down  some 
crackers.  "  There,  now  I  can  go,"  she  said  with 
her  mouth  full.  "  I  like  to  dream  while  you  are 
playing.  I  build  a  glass  house  in  the  middle  of 
green  woods,  and  then  I  listen  to  what  the  birds 
and  flowers  are  saying,  for  you  know  they  do 
talk,"  and  she  looked  up  in  such  an  elfish  way 
that  Daisy  was  startled. 

"You  mustn't  have  such  queer  fancies,"  her 
mother  said,  as  she  pulled  a  stiff  piece  of  linen  out 
ready  for  the  ironing. 

"Who's  going  to  hinder?"  asked  Zue,  with  a 
mocking  laugh.  "  Can't  I  fancy  that  my  father  is 
alive,  and  I  have  lots  of  aunts  and  uncles  and 
cousins  ?  Can't  I  fancy  that  I  am  rich  enough  to 
give  away  plenty  of  money,  and  that  I  have  all 
the  musical  instruments  I  want,  besides  thousands 
of  other  nice  things  that  would  fill  a  universe  ?  " 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  she  get  that  word ! " 
her  mother  mused  over  her  work.  "  She's  a 
strange  child,  Miss  Daisy,"  she  added ;  "  I  don't 
know  what  she's  going  to  make." 

"  A  good  woman,  I  hope,"  said  Daisy,  and  car- 
ried her  off. 

Zue  stopped  on  the  threshold. 


76  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Did  you  know  Mr.  Temple  was  here  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  No,"  said  Daisy,  laughing  and  blushing. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  him  before  you  go  to 
the  church  ?  "  the  child  persisted. 

"Hush,  you  silly  child;  why  should  I?  "  inter- 
rogated Daisy. 

"  Because  mother  said  you  liked  him,"  was 
Zue's  answer.  Then  a  door  shut;  and  Daisy, 
whose  cheeks  were  like  red  roses,  caught  Zue's 
hands,  and  ran  down  the  path  to  the  gate. 

"  Zue,"  she  said,  when  they  were  well  out  of 
the  house,  "  I  think  you  are  an  impertinent  little 
monkey." 

"Hadn't  you  just  as  lief  I'd  be  a  kitten?" 
queried  the  imperturbable  Zue.  "  I  never  did 
like  monkeys.  They're  nasty  things." 

"  You  are  a  monkey  if  you  meddle.  Little  girls 
should  never  meddle  with  things  they  don't  know 
anything  about." 

" I  don't  know  how  to  meddle,"  said  Zue  ;  "but 
I'm  tired  of  letting  Mr.  Temple  in.  It  don't 
matter  whether  mother  is  busy  or  not,  she  always 
sends  me.  I'm  perfectly  sure"  she  added,  looking 
up  in  Daisy's  face  with  the  queer,  elfish  expression 
she  sometimes  assumed,  "  that  mother  hates  him 
to  his  boots." 

"Why  in  the  world  should  she?"  Daisy  ex- 


IN  HIS  PLACE  77 

claimed,  and  then  was  provoked  with  her  own 
eagerness. 

"  Mother  thinks  I'm  hard  to  understand,"  said 
Zue  wisely ;  "  but  she's  a  great  deal  harder.  She 
never  will  tell  me  about  my  father;  and,  do  you 
know,  I  begin  to  think  I  never  had  one.  I 
wouldn't  give  a  thank-you  for  a  mother.  I  want 
a  father." 

"  You  talk  too  much,  Zue,"  said  Daisy,  secretly 
amused. 

It  wanted  two  hours  to  dinner  when  Daisy 
returned. 

"Will  he  be  here  yet?  "  she  questioned  of  her- 
self, and  then,  "  suppose  he  is,  why  should  I 
care  ?  "  She  entered  the  hall :  the  study-door  was 
shut,  sure  indication  that  nobody  was  there.  Then 
she  went  into  the  study.  It  was  empty.  She 
knew  where  Temple  had  sat,  for  the  book  he  had 
been  reading  still  lay  upon  the  window-seat.  With 
a  conscious  look  she  sat  down  in  the  chair,  smiling 
and  blushing.  Everything  was  in  order,  even  to 
the  papers  on  the  desk,  for  the  rector  was  rigidly 
methodical.  The  book-shelves  were  spotless,  the 
hearth  shone  like  glass,  and  the  pretty  carpet  had 
been  lately  swept.  Margy  had  been  at  work. 

"  Why  should  Margy  hate  him?  I  don't  believe 
she  hates  him,"  murmured  Daisy,  her  hand  on  the 
book  he  had  been  reading.  Then  she  tried  to 


78  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

fancy  what  she  should  do  or  say  if  lie  should  come 
in  suddenly,  and  then  fearing  that  perhaps  he 
would,  she  ran  up-stairs  into  her  own  room.  She 
drew  off  her  gloves,  put  her  hat  away,  and  paused 
a  moment  before  the  mirror.  What  she  saw  there 
was  a  thoughtful,  inscrutable  face,  which  would 
not  acknowledge  its  own  charms. 

"  It's  only  young  and  girlish.  There's  nothing 
beautiful  about  it,  except,  perhaps,  the  color,"  she 
added  hurriedly.  "  Even  Mary  says  I  have  a  lovely 
complexion.  But  what  of  it  ?  Would  a  man  like 
that  think  of  me  for  a  moment  ?  Rush  Severn  might. 
I've  known  Rush  Severn  two  years  —  and  I've  only 
known  him  two  months  !  Oh  !  I'm  ashamed  of 
myself  for  thinking  of  him,  and  he  never  wastes 
a  thought  on  me.  But  he  is  so  noble  !  so  grand ! 
so  thoroughly  manly !  I  will  stop  thinking  of  him," 
she  said  with  decision.  "  I  should  despise  myself 
if  —  if  —  I  loved  a  man  who  looks  upon  me  as  a 
child.  Arthur  would  despise  me  if  he  knew  — 
oh,  I  must  stop  thinking  !  What  to  wear  at  Mrs. 
St.  Albert's  paity.  I  must  set  my  wits  at  work." 

She  opened  a  closet-door.  Several  dresses  hung 
inside,  —  soft  blues,  and  pinks,  and  grays,  that 
underwent,  one  by  one,  her  careful  scrutiny. 

"  That  can  never  be  mended,  the  sleeves  are 
gone  at  the  elbows.  This  is  too  short,  for  I  do 
believe  I  am  still  growing." 


TWO  ARISTOCRATS  79 

So  she  went  through  the  list,  and  came  away 
concluding  that,  like  the  famous  heroine  of  Madi- 
son Square,  she  had  nothing  to  wear. 

"  Nothing  that  will  look  presentable  at  a  party, 
at  least,"  she  added  in  a  melancholy  undertone. 
Then  she  went  into  the  adjoining  room,  which  was 
the  nursery.  Mary  was  just  inducting  the  twins 
into  their  afternoon  dresses,  and  declared  that  they 
looked  like  little  cherubs  from  heaven,  after  she 
had  patted  and  pulled  and  tied  them  to  her  heart's 
content.  Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  when 
at  last  she  put  them  on  the  white  bed,  where  they 
began  to  crow  in  the  most  dulcet  tones,  to  belabor 
each  other  with  white  arms  and  hands,  and  alto- 
gether to  do  such  bewildering  things,  and  to  laugh 
with  such  hearty  good  nature,  that  Mary  could  not 
tear  herself  away  from  them. 

"  I  don't  care  what  anybody  says,  they  are  two 
charming  little  aristocrats!  Look  how  daintily 
they  touch  things  !  "  cried  the  delighted  mother. 
"  O  Daisy  !  I'm  losing  my  heart  to  them  more  and 
more  every  day.  I  never  saw  such  babies.  They 
laugh  when  they  waken,  and  they  do  nothing 
but  keep  good-natured,  and  are  as  graceful  and 
beautiful  as  angels.  They  are  the  dearest, 
sweetest,  darlingest "  —  and  down  she  fell,  wor- 
shipping, her  head  buried  between  the  two  crow- 
ing little  figures,  at  which  they  only  laughed 


80        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL. 

the  louder,  and  turned  their  vigorous  little  fists 

on  her. 

•^ 

Daisy  enjoyed  it,  but  presently  was  so  still  that 
the  rector's  wife  turned  towards  her. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  you  thinking  of,  Daisy  ?  " 
she  asked.  "  You  look  as  grave,  if  not  as  wise,  as 
an  owl." 

Daisy's  anxious  brows,  the  veiled  eyes,  the 
droop  of  the  pretty  lips,  made  her  seem  serious,  if 
not  dejected.  She  brightened,  however,  and  a 
shade  of  color  touched  her  cheeks. 

"  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  call  it  thinking  very 
seriously,  but  I  was  wondering  what  I  shall  wear 
to  Mrs.  St.  Albert's  next  Thursday,"  was  her 
answer. 

"  Won't  your  white  mull  do  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  "  said  Daisy ;  "  it  hasn't  a  bit  of 
style,  and  is  too  short.  Of  course  I  can't  get  a 
new  one  ;  that  is  out  of  the  question." 

"Perhaps  I  can  help  you,"  said  Mary.  "I'm 
sure  there  are  lots  of  ribbons  and  laces  —  and 
things.  Why,  of  course  I  can !  Why  didn't  I 
think  of  it  before  ?  My  wedding-dress ! " 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other,  all  eyes. 

"  To  be  sure,  it's  almost  ten  years  old,  but  it  is 
one  of  those  things  that  never  go  out  of  fashion. 
There  it  lies  in  the  trunk,  doing  no  good  what- 
ever to  me  or  any  one  else.  Here,"  and  she 


OLD  LACE  81 

detached  a  chain  of  keys  from  her  chatelaine,  and 
handed  it  to  Daisy.  "  It  is  in  that  big  trunk  in 
the  hall-closet,  in  the  tray,  done  up  in  blue  paper. 
Bring  it  here,  and  we'll  see." 

Daisy  was  in  a  flutter  of  delight.  She  knew 
that  the  dress  was  very  choice  and  beautiful,  and 
presently  it  was  brought  in  and  laid  upon  the  bed. 

"  My  enthusiasm  may  be  the  result  of  an  ardent 
idealism,"  Mary  went  on,  as  she  unfolded  the 
paper,  "but  I  remember  several  of  my  friends 
thought  it  an  imported  costume." 

"  Oh  I  it  is  just  lovely  !  "  cried  Daisy,  breath- 
less, as  the  dress  came  to  light. 

"Yes,  it  certainly  is  uncommonly  pretty,  and 
I'll  tell  you  why.  All  this  filmy  lace  —  you  see  it 
is  exquisite  —  was  given  me  by  Aunt  Esther.  It  is 
an  heirloom.  There  were  yards  and  yards,  and  I 
had  it  all  made  into  trimming.  I  believe  it  has 
done  duty  for  more  than  one  wedding.  Except 
that  Arthur  dislikes  short  sleeves,  the  dress  is 
perfect.  But  there  are  gloves  to  go  with  it,  and 
they  are  quite  long.  Oh,  yes,  it  will  be  just  the 
thing  for  a  party-dress.  I'm  so  anxious  to  see  you 
in  it." 

Daisy  was  soon  inducted  into  the  gown,  and  it 
was  found  to  fit  her  perfectly. 

"A  ribbon  here,  a  flower  there  ;  and  it  is  a 
superb  fit  too ;  not  a  seam  to  be  taken  in,  not  a 


82  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

stitch  to  take  out.  I'm  so  glad !  Dear  little 
wedding-dress ! " 

She  patted  and  pulled  it  here  and  there,  and 
stood  admiring,  her  head  on  one  side. 

"  You  are  sure  you  don't  care,"  Daisy  said. 

"For  what?" 

"  My  wearing  it.  Some  people  are  so  supersti- 
tious about  these  things." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  one  of  the  some,"  laughed  the 
rector's  wife.  "  I  like  to  have  things  doing  good, 
and  I'm  so  glad  I  thought  of  it !  It's  not  a  bit 
yellow,  either,  owing  to  the  wax  candles  I  put 
round  it,  and  the  blue  paper.  Blue  paper  is  so 
nice  for  white  goods.  There,  now  you  are  pro- 
vided for,  don't  be  anxious  any  more." 

For  answer  Daisy  bent  over  and  kissed  her. 

"  I'm  sure  to  be  happy  in  it,"  she  said  with  much 
feeling. 

"  It  was  over  a  happy  heart  when  I  wore  it, 
dear,"  said  her  sister-in-law. 

"And  you  have  never  had  it  on  since  your 
wedding?  " 

"  Never.  At  first  I  had  the  sentimental  ideas 
that  most  young  wives  have,  that  it  should  be  kept 
sacred  forever ;  and  I  cuddled  it  away,  thinking  I 
would  let  it  lie  there  till  it  should  be  needed  for 
my  shroud.  I  have  got  all  over  that,  though,  and 
laughed  at  the  silly  notion  many  a  time, " 


WOULD  HE  CARE  83 

"  And  why  haven't  you  worn  it,  dear  ?  "  asked 
Daisy,  lifting  the  marvel  of  lace  and  muslin  over 
her  head. 

"  Oh !  it  seemed  too  childish  for  one  in  my 
matronly  position,"  she  said.  "  I  had  other  nice 
dresses,  more  suitable  to  my  age  and  standing," 
she  added  with  a  light  laugh. 

"  Your  age  !  You  look  hardly  a  bit  older  than 
I  do,"  said  Daisy,  kissing  her  again.  "  Then  I 
may  take  this  into  my  room." 

"  To  be  sure  you  may.  Go  down  and  ask 
Margy  to  iron  those  ribbons  out ;  they  are  creased. 
Nothing  else  need  be  touched." 

Daisy  went  trippingly  down  the  stairs,  humming 
as  she  went.  There  was  also  the  delightful  possi- 
bility that  Mr.  Temple  might  be  closeted  with  her 
brother ;  and  though  she  was  not  vain  enough  to 
think  it  might  be  a  pleasure  to  him  to  know  her 
whereabouts,  she  could  not  help  sounding  a  little 
advance  note  to  indicate  that  she  was  in  the 
house. 

"  But  would  he  care  ? "  she  thought,  checking 
herself  of  a  sudden.  "I  don't  suppose  he  ever 
thinks  of  me,"  she  soliloquized  ;  "  but  I  —  do  — 
think  of  his  eyes,"  she  added  plaintively.  It  was 
very  still,  everywhere.  Margy  was  ironing.  Zue 
was  asleep,  or  pretended  to  be,  on  the  kitchen 
lounge. 


84  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"Please  iron  these  ribbons  out,"  said  Daisy; 
"  it's  too  bad,  too,  just  as  you've  begun  on  a 
shirt." 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing.  I  was  just  going  to  change 
the  irons  anyway ; "  and  Margy,  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word,  placed  a  fresh  iron  to  cool  a  little,  and 
took  the  dress. 

"  My  sakes  !  isn't  that  pretty  ?  "  she  exclaimed, 
holding  it  at  arm's-length.  "  Mrs.  Prince's  wed- 
ding-dress." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  "  Daisy  asked. 

"  She  let  me  look  at  it  once ;  that  was  before 
the  twins  were  born.  It  was  a  time  when  she  was 
pretty  low-spirited.  She  wanted  me  to  have  it  put 
on  her  if  she  should  die,  you  know." 

Daisy  shuddered. 

"  So  she  is  going  to  wear  it  again,  as  I  told  her. 
Says  I,  'You  will  live  to  wear  it  a  good  many 
times.' " 

"  Not  she,  but  I,"  said  Daisy. 

"  No  !  Did  you  know  that  is  considered  bad 
luck  ?  Your  chances  for  marrying  this  year  will 
be  gone." 

"  Well,  that  don't  trouble  me,"  said  Daisy.  "  I 
don't  want  to  be  married  this  year,  nor  for  many  a 
year  to  come." 

"  Oh !  you  don't,"  Margy  responded,  and  looked 
at  her  with  a  side-long  glance,  her  lips,  curving 


MIGHTY  SUPERSTITIOUS  85 

into  a  half  smile.  All  the  impulses  of  her  impet- 
uous character  had  been  tamed  by  long  repres- 
sion, yet  there  was  that  on  her  lips,  which,  spoken, 
would  have  scared  the  girl  before  her. 

"  It's  a  party,  I  suppose,"  she  said,  breaking  the 
silence  again. 

"  Yes ;  at  Mrs.  St.  Albert's.  She  gives  such 
delightful  parties  !  "  said  Daisy. 

"  She's  such  a  queer  little  woman !  "  said  Margy 
reflectively,  smoothing  out  another  ribbon.  "  I 
never  know  whether  she  is  in  jest  or  in  earnest. 
Who  are  you  going  with  ? "  she  asked  without 
looking  up. 

"Why,  my  brother,  of  course,  and  his  wife," 
said  Daisy.  "  Who  did  you  think  ?  " 

"I  —  didn't  know,"  was  the  answer,  as  she  tried 
another  iron  by  holding  it  close  to  her  cheek. 
"  All  the  town  will  be  there,  I  suppose." 

"  Yes,  everybody  who  is  usually  there,"  Daisy 
said,  taking  the  dress  which  Margy  held  towards 
her.  "  And  I'm  sure  my  dress  will  be  pretty  — 
thank  you,  Margy." 

"Yes,  but  I'd  rather  it  had  been  new.  I'm 
mighty  superstitious  about  these  things,  wedding 
finery  and  the  like." 

"  Were  you  married  in  white  ?  "  asked  Daisy, 
all  aflush.  She  had  never  spoken  to  her  before  of 
her  past. 


86  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Did  —  I  —  marry  in  white  ?  No,  dead  black, 
dead  black.  And  I  wish  it  had  been  my  shroud." 

"O  Margy ! "  Daisy  exclaimed  with  frightened 
eyes.  The  woman  could  say  whole  volumes  in  a 
sentence ;  eyes,  voice,  and  manner  all  united 
in  stamping  her  words  with  an  expression  that 
haunted  one. 

"  Don't  ask  about  it,  child,"  said  Margy,  with  a 
wild  look.  "  I  might  be  tempted  to  say  that  I'd 
wish  I  hadn't.  I  couldn't  begin  to  tell  you  the 
misery  that  came  into  my  life  after  that.  I  —  I 
died  then,"  she  gasped,  and  held  up  a  long  white 
robe  before  her  eyes  as  if  examining  the  texture. 
It  was  in  reality  to  hide  the  distortion  of  her  fea- 
tures. Daisy  asked  no  more  questions,  but  hurried 
out  of  the  room  and  up-stairs,  where  she  spread 
the  dress  out  upon  the  bed  that  she  might  feast 
her  eyes  upon  it. 

But  she  never  forgot  that  expression  on  Margy's 
face. 

"  Something  terrible  must  have  happened,  poor 
thing ! "  she  said  pityingly ;  "  her  marriage  must 
have  been  unhappy." 


TO  SEE  THE  WORLD  87 


CHAPTER  X. 

MAKGY   WHITES. 

IT  is  night  again,  and  the  house  is  still.  He 
has  not  been  here  since  this  morning.  Let  me  try 
again  to  write  the  hapless  story  of  my  life.  I  left 
off  at  the  den  of  the  manager,  who  hired  us  both, 
Inez  and  me,  to  sing  in  the  chorus.  The  prospect 
held  a  certain  charm  for  me  as  for  Inez,  —  the  nov- 
elty of  travel,  the  pleasure  of  seeing  new  faces. 
We  should  see  the  world !  The  very  idea  of 
appearing  before  large  and  brilliant  throngs,  the 
fashion  and  beauty  of  the  cities,  captivated  us 
both.  Suppose  I  remained  at  school.  There  was 
no  mother  to  greet  me,  either  in  the  holidays  or 
when  I  had  finished  my  education.  My  father, 
grim,  silent,  solitary,  with  never  a  glance  or  word 
of  love  for  me  —  how  could  I  endure  the  thought 
of  going  back  ?  Home  was  no  longer  home  to  me. 
My  father  had  made  my  mother's  life  intolerable, 
he  should  not  imbitter  mine.  Inez's  mother  had 
married  again,  and  the  girl  hated  her  step-father. 
She  needed  no  persuasion  to  go,  and  we  joined  the 
troupe. 


88  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

I  can  conscientiously  say,  that,  for  a  time,  I  was 
happy.  Forgetting  the  past,  I  lived  in  the  pres- 
ent. Inez  and  I  were  all  in  all  to  each  other.  We 
shared  the  same  room,  ate  at  the  same  table,  slept 
in  the  same  bed.  Life  was  very  brilliant  to  the 
two  undisciplined  girls  who  knew  of  nothing 
brighter.  Night  after  night  we  appeared  before 
great  crowds,  as  queens,  shepherdesses,  soldiers, 
peasants,  gypsies,  everything  by  turn,  and  nothing 
long.  Our  duties  were  not  hard.  We  journeyed 
from  city  to  city,  were  well  paid,  and  life  went 
easily. 

At  last  we  stopped  in  the  great  city  of  —  I  will 
not  name  it.  There  for  weeks  and  months  we 
participated  in  all  the  delights  of  crowded  houses, 
and  a  success  that  was  unparalleled.  Now  came 
the  romance  for  which  I  had  been  longing. 

Night  after  night  there  appeared  in  one  of  the 
front  rows  near  the  orchestra,  a  young  man  who 
seemed  to  level  his  opera-glass  at  myself,  so  con- 
stantly, indeed,  that  I  began  to  look  for  it,  and 
Inez  to  joke  me  about  my  unknown  admirer  before 
we  went  on  the  stage.  It  was  all  new  to  me,  for 
we  had  been  so  constantly  on  the  move  before,  that 
we  had  had  no  chance  for  admirers.  The  young 
man,  however,  was  persistent,  and  finally  sent  me 
flowers  with  his  card.  It  pleased  me,  it  was 
all  so  novel  and  beautiful.  I  fancied  that  Inez 


A  SECRET   MARRIAGE  89 

was  hurt  or  jealous,  because  of  this  new  element 
in  my  life;  and  that  added  zest  to  the  interest 
with  which  I  regarded  him. 

Then  I  did  what  I  shall  regret  all  my  life  long. 
I  met  him  clandestinely,  and  listened  to  his  pas- 
sionate love-speeches.  He  laid  a  spell  upon  me, 
and  I  became  restless  and  unhappy  when  I  could 
not  see  him.  I  shall  never  forget  —  one  week  in 
particular,  when  he  was  called  away  on  business, 
as  he  told  me.  Then  I  knew  what  he  had  become 
to  me.  When  I  met  him  again,  I  longed  to  keep 
him.  I  loved  him  so  that  I  was  frightened  at  my- 
self. I  could  scarcely  give  my  attention  to  the 
business  that  compelled  me  to  my  duties  night 
after  night.  I  grew  absent-minded  and  restless. 
At  last,  in  one  of  these  moods  of  passion  and  un- 
rest, I  yielded  to  his  entreaties,  and  we  were 
secretly  married. 

I  had  never  confided  in  Inez,  who  was  all  the 
time  trying  to  persuade  me  to  give  him  up. 

"  He  is  wild  and  reckless,"  she  would  say.  "  I 
can  see  it  in  his  eyes.  Handsome,  yes,  but  not  of 
the  kind  that  make  good  husbands,  especially  when 
they  take  their  wives  from  the  stage.  Let  him 
talk;  it's  all  comedy  now;  but  for  Heaven's  sake 
don't  turn  it  into  tragedy  by  believing  him.  We 
are  so  happy  together;  send  him  about  his  busi- 
ness. Wait,  and  who  knows  where  our  ambition 


90  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

and  the  manager's  kindness  may  carry  us !  We 
are  not  like  the  other  girls,  and  have  already 
taken  leading  parts." 

But  I  loved  him,  alas !  I  loved  him  !  While 
she  talked,  I  was  already  in  a  trance  of  delirious 
happiness,  thinking  of  him. 

At  last  came  the  time  of  the  removal  of  the 
company  to  a  distant  city,  and  I  —  stayed  behind. 
I  was  Mrs.  Temple  now  !  How  beautiful  seemed 
that  name  to  me  then !  I  thought  of  it  when  Miss 
Daisy  asked  me  if  it  was  not  a  beautiful  name, 
but,  ah !  how  I  hate  and  loathe  it  now  !  And  he 
so  handsome,  frank,  and  loving,  and  so  free  with 
his  money !  What  he  promised  !  I  lived  in  para- 
dise for  one  brief  year.  What  my  husband's 
business  was,  I  never  knew.  Now  I  do.  He  was 
a  gambler.  Strange  men  often  came  to  see  us, 
and  always  they  played  cards.  He  dressed  me 
well.  I  had  jewels,  fine  diamonds,  handsome 
apartments,  when  he  was  in  funds.  Oh !  how 
happy  I  was  that  year!  Another  came,  and  my 
husband  lost  his  friends.  His  companions  were  of 
a  lower  grade.  We  moved  frequently.  Then  he 
began  to  drink,  and  when  intoxicated  he  was 
always  abusive.  Six  months  before  my  poor  Zue 
was  born,  he  deliberately  abandoned  me,  at  a  time 
when  I  needed  his  love  more  than  ever,  leaving 
me  in  a  strange  part  of  the  city,  without  even  one 


A  CRUEL  LETTER  91 

acquaintance  of  my  own  sex.  One  day  I  received 
a  letter  from  him,  in  which  he  complained  of  his 
inability  to  support  us  both. 

"  If  I  ever  make  money  again,"  he  said,  "  in  the 
far-off  land  where  I  am  going,  I  will  remember  you. 
If  not,  you  will  be  able,  I  feel  convinced,  to  support 
yourself  as  you  have  done  heretofore."  Was  not 
that  cruel  ?  and  I  bound  hand  and  foot !  I  dare 
not  recall  that  time,  even  now.  That  cowardly 
letter  is  written  in  words  of  fire  on  my  brain. 
For  a  time  I  thought  I  should  go  mad.  Left 
alone  in  a  great  city,  deserted,  deceived. 

My  temples  throb  with  the  horror  of  that  re- 
membrance. If  he  had  died,  I  could  have  gone 
home  to  my  father,  mourning  for  my  husband. 

Inez  had  been  true  in  her  friendship,  and  had 
written  to  me,  but  her  letter  remained  unanswered. 
What  could  I  write  to  her  ? 

"  If  you  are  unhappy  or  unfortunate,"  she  said, 
over  and  over,  "let  me  know  at  once.  You  can 
come  back  here." 

Come  back  !  and  I  so  helpless  !  How  I  lived,  I 
do  not  know.  I  sold  my  jewels.  I  pawned  my 
dresses.  I  managed  to  exist  till  my  baby  was 
born.  "Come  back!"  and  that  helpless,  wailing 
baby  on  my  hands !  For  Zue  was  not  a  sweet 
baby,  like  the  twins  She  was  always  crying  or 
worrying,  or,  it  seemed  to  me,  resenting  the  fact 


92 

of  her  birth.  Well,  what  to  do  then?  I  sewed, 
I  stitched  shirts,  and  collars  and  cuffs — anything 
I  could  get ;  arid  the  pay  would  hardly  keep  me  in 
bread.  I  was  forced  to  go  down  into  the  slums, 
to  live  where  the  atmosphere  reeked  with  vice  and 
filth.  My  disappointment  made  me  fiendish.  I 
angered  my  friends.  I  was  driven  to  desperation 
more  than  once. 

There  was  a  young  missionary  living  in  that 
quarter  of  the  city.  So  young,  with  the  beauty 
of  an  angel  in  his  blue  eyes  !  I  shocked  him  with 
my  ingratitude,  my  despair,  my  unbelief.  But  he 
bore  with  me,  thank  God.  When  I  had  come  to 
the  worst,  and  saw  nothing  before  me  but  infamy 
or  death,  I  chose  death.  Arranging  my  affairs,  I 
took  my  baby  in  my  arms,  and  went  deliberately 
down  to  the  wharf.  How  well  I  remember  it,  and 
the  great,  black,  hungry  waste  of  water,  looking  so 
merciless.  He  had  followed  me  —  and  he  saved  me. 

0  Andrew  Temple,  I  have  not  forgotten  you  ! 
O   Andrew   Temple,    I   shall   never   forget   you ! 
Coward,  fiend,  devil,  to  come  here  into  this  good 
family  with  your  altered  manhood,  to  win  him  to 
your  friend  —  to  win,  oh,  merciful  Heaven  !  what 
shall  I  do   to   prevent   this   crime  ?  —  that  pure, 
sweet  young  soul ! 

1  must  have  time.     I  must  think,  think !     Surely 
God  will  help  me. 


SOME  DAT  93 

They  say  he  has  become  a  famous  man ;  that  he 
has  a  grand  mind ;  that  he  is  a  lawyer,  and  writes 
for  the  best  papers  and  magazines.  And  yet, 
Andrew  Temple,  I  pronounce  you  false,  wicked, 
and  cruel !  And  so,  some  day,  I  shall  brand  you, 
though  you  are  powerful  and  I  am  weak. 

What  then?  Would  I  accept  any  reparation? 
No ;  not  one  jot.  I  have  chosen  my  life.  I  love 
it.  Here  I  am  honored  with  the  confidence  of 
those  I  serve.  They  would  make  even  more  a 
friend  of  me  if  I  would  allow  it.  Here  I  am  safe. 
These  dear  people  have  been  good  to  me  in  my 
days  of  darkness,  nursed  me  in  sickness,  cherished 
me  in  health.  They  shall  have  my  life-long  ser- 
vice. It  is  only  for.  the  child  I  mourn ;  the  wild, 
impulsive  soul  that  he  has  given  her. 

And  Daisy  !  That  beautiful,  innocent  girl,  with 
the  light  of  heaven  in  her  eyes.  Can  it  be  that 
she  is  beginning  to  love  him  ?  I  know,  I  feel  that 
she  is.  His  eyes  have  the  old  magic  yet,  those 
coaxing  eyes !  his  manner,  the  old  charm.  He 
might  not  recognize  me,  and  yet  I  dare  not  see 
him.  I  am  not  the  slender  girl  I  was.  Sickness 
and  sorrow  have  changed  me.  He  shall  never 
know  who  I  am,  if  I  can  help  it. 

It  is  a  hard  task  to  set  before  myself,  but  I  will 
accomplish  it.  I  owe  my  ruined  life  to  you, 
Andrew  Temple !  That  I  shall  say,  if  ever  mercy 


94  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

pleads,  or  tenderness  for  Miss  Daisy  blunts  my 
sense  of  justice.  I  owe  my  blighted  life  to  your 
wicked  selfishness.  I  owe  all  the  despairing  mo- 
ments, days,  weeks,  I  have  had,  to  your  cruel 
deception.  Almost  you  have  made  me  a  mur- 
deress ! 

To  see  the  two  together!  he,  Mr.  Prince,  a 
prince  indeed,  and  that  man  with  his  dark  past. 
Does  he  ever  think  of  that  trusting  girl  who  gave 
up  all  for  him  ? 

In  the  long  silences  of  the  night  does  he  hear 
her  cries  of  despair?  When  he  looks  at  this  child, 
this  strange,  wayward  thing  that  I  have  nursed 
and  loved,  — ay,  and  at  times  hated,  —  does  nothing 
in  her  face  speak  to  him  —  her  face  so  much  like 
his? 

A  rush  of  emotion  overpowered  the  woman  as 
she  laid  aside  her  pen.  She  shook  as  with  an  ague 
as  she  sat  there,  shedding  hot  tears,  her  face  hid- 
den in  her  hands. 

The  small  lamp  placed  on  a  bracket  above  the 
table  shed  its  gleams  on  her  abundant  hair.  Its 
tiny  gleam  wandered  on,  showing  the  outlines  of 
a  small  room.  Everything  was  scrupulously  clean. 
A  bed,  in  the  middle  of  which  little  Zue  lay, 
stood  against  the  wall.  The  child's  hair  streamed 
over  the  pillow,  gleaming  like  gold.  Margy,  in  a 


FORSAKEN  95 

fit  of  despondency,  had  named  the  child  Azubah, 
because  the  word  meant  forsaken. 

Presently  the  woman  rose,  wiped  her  tears  away 
with  a  defiant  gesture,  and  soon  the  room  was  as 
silent  and  dark  as  the  rest  of  the  house. 


96  IP  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XL 

AT   THE   PARTY. 

DAISY'S  mirror  told  her  that  she  was  beautiful 
on  the  auspicious  night  of  Mrs.  St.  Albert's  party. 
Mary  came  in  while  she  was  putting  on  the  finish- 
ing touches,  to  see  if  her  sister-in-law  needed  her 
help.  She  herself  was  dressed  in  pearl-colored 
silk,  which  sent  out  a  shimmer  of  lustre  every 
time  she  moved. 

"•  Oh,  ho\v  sweet  she  is!"  she  cried,  "and  dressed 
all  by  herself  too.  I've  been  waiting,  expecting 
to  hear  you  call  me  for  ever  so  long.  How  nice  it 
is  to  have  a  woman  like  Margy  in  the  house !  so 
faithful,  so  devoted !  I  don't  half  prize  her,  I'm 
afraid.  She  will  sit  by  those  two  babies  till  I 
come  home,  now  Zue  has  cried  herself  to  sleep. 
A  pity  the  child  takes  such  fancies.  Nobody 
could  convince  her  that  Miss  Daisy  might  not 
have  taken  her  if  she  pleased.  A  little  chit  like 
her !  I  wonder  her  mother  has  so  much  patience 
with  her." 

"She  wanted  to  go  to  take  care  of  me,"  said 


IN  PRESENCE  OF  THE  HOSTESS  97 

Daisy,  laughing.  "  Once  in  a  while  she  pretends 
to  consider  me  in  great  danger,  and  I  do  believe 
the  child  really  suffers." 

"Are  you  well  wrapped  up?"  her  sister-in-law 
asked,  as  they  were  ready  to  go.  "It  is  really 
cool  to-night,  and  you  know  your  chest  is  deli- 
cate." 

"  Oh,  I'm  both  flannelled  and  shawled,  as  Mrs. 
St.  Albert  says,"  laughed  Daisy.  "I've  only  to 
get  my  fan.  There,  now  I'm  ready." 

The  St.  Albert  mansion  was  two  squares  away. 
A  pair  of  majestic  stone  lions  guarded  its  massive 
portals.  All  the  windows  were  alight,  and  well- 
trained  servants  stood  ready  to  show  the  visitors 
to  the  cloak-room,  and  usher  the  guests  into  the 
presence  of  the  host  and  hostess. 

Mrs.  St.  Albert  was  radiant.  On  occasions  like 
this  she  kept  the  comical  side  of  her  character  in 
abeyance,  except  with  her  most  intimate  friends, 
particularly  if  her  husband  was  near. 

The  master  of  the  house  was  tall,  clear-eyed, 
clean-shaven,  of  a  decidedly  military  bearing  and 
well-favored.  By  those  who  did  not  know  him  he 
was  called  an  aristocrat.  He  stood  beside  his  wife 
like  a  statue  in  bronze,  and  they  made  a  striking- 
looking  couple,  she  so  tiny  and  winsome,  he  quiet, 
smiling,  and  dark. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are ! "  she  said,  as  Daisy  made  her 


98  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

appearance.  "  You  are  just  like  a  picture,  deary. 
I'm  in  a  panic,  as  usual,  for  fear  things  won't  go 
off  right.  I  have  already  had  one  disappointment. 
The  one  fiddler  in  the  town  sent  word  that  his 
wife  was  dying;  and  as  there's  no  band  within 
sixty  miles  of  Fairstock,  why,  we  shall  have  to 
dance  by  the  piano.  I  do  hope  you  brought  some 
music.  I  meant  to  tell  you,  and  I  utterly  forgot ; 
but  you  are  always  so  kind." 

The  words  were  accentuated  with  one  of  her 
sweetest  smiles. 

"  I  didn't  bring  any  music,"  said  Daisy  ;  "  but  I 
have  some  old  songs  that  I  never  forget,  if  it  will 
do  to  sing  them." 

"  Old  songs !  '  there's  nothing  like  the  old  songs.' 
There  comes  Mr.  Sims.  Do  you  never  feel  as  if 
he  was  going  to  swallow  you,  when  he  opens  his 
mouth  ?  Deary,  if  you  will^  have  the  kindness 
just  to  say  a  word  to  poor  old  Uncle  Sam,  who 
keeps  hovering  round  you  like  an  enormous  bum- 
ble-bee. He  thinks  there's  nobody  like  you." 

Daisy  turned,  and  smiled  and  nodded  to  a  lean 
old  man,  whose  clothes  hung  loosely  about  him,  as 
he  stood  waiting  patiently  to  be  noticed.  His 
face  lighted  almost  pathetically ;  he  took  both  her 
hands  in  his ;  his  piercing  eyes,  accentuated  by 
bushy  black  brows,  kindled  at  sight  of  her  smile. 
Uncle  Sam  had  been  as  deaf  as  a  post,  as  the  saying 


A  WEATHER  PROPHET  99 

is,  for  twenty  long  years;  and  though  he  could 
hear  reasonably  well  with  an  ear-trumpet,  he  used 
it  as  little  as  possible,  and  only  on  very  private 
occasions. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Uncle  Sam  ?  "  asked  Daisy, 
oblivious  of  the  younger  fry  who  stood  waiting 
for  their  turn. 

"  I'm  very  glad,  very  glad  indeed  to  meet  you 
here,"  said  Uncle  Sam,  bowing  with  old-time  cour- 
tesy. "Quite  chilly  this  evening.  A  change  in 
the  wind,  I  suppose ;  thermometer  down  to  fifty." 

"  I  hope  you  are  enjoying  yourself,"  said  Daisy, 
as  he  still  held  her  hands,  knowing  that  it  hardly 
mattered  what  was  said. 

"Yes,  yes,  exceedingly  changeable  weather.  I 
keep  a  record  of  the  weather;  have  done  so  for 
forty  years  or  thereabouts.  Let  me  see  ;  in  '78,  I 
think,  we  had  just  such  weather  as  this,  the  last  of 
August.  I  could  tell  you  exactly  if  I  could  refer 
to  my  journal.  I've  got  the  weather  down  to  a 
fine  point;  pretty  good  weather-prophet,  I  am, 
pretty  good  weather-prophet.  Seems  to  be  a  little 
chilly  here,  isn't  it?" 

With  that  the  old  man  released  her  hands,  and 
she  left  him  to  tell  his  experience  to  the  next  new- 
comer, and  looked  about  her.  The  rooms  were 
rapidly  filling ;  they  were  large  rooms,  and  showed 
a  pleasant  vista,  luminous  with  softly  shaded 


100        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

lights,  filled  with  beautiful  furniture,  and  tastefully 
decorated  with  flowers  and  colored  lamps.  Daisy 
knew  everybody,  and  everybody  knew  her.  The 
minister's  sister  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  peo- 
ple of  Fairstock.  She  moved  radiantly  among 
groups  of  pretty  young  girls,  nodding  to  the 
gentlemen,  stopping  occasionally  to  speak  to  the 
older  members  of  the  church,  some  of  whom  had 
taken  possession  of  the  rector  and  carried  him  off 
for  a  talk. 

One  of  the  members  of  the  choir  came  across  the 
room  and  met  Daisy.  It  was  Rose  Dimmock, 
prettier  than  ever  in  a  shimmering  white  silk  cos- 
tume. 

"Isn't  it  too  bad!"  was  her  first  exclamation, 
in  a  vexed  tone.  "And  you  are  so  exquisitely 
dressed ! "  This  last  phrase  rather  disjointed  the 
sentence,  and  Daisy  looked  puzzled.  "I  never 
saw  you  look  so  well  in  my  life.  All  the  arrange- 
ments so  perfect  too !  And  it  only  comes  once  a 
year." 

Daisy  began  to  laugh. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Isn't  what 
too  bad  ?  "  she  interrogated. 

"  Why,  Professor  Severn  was  to  play  for  us,  you 
know ;  and  he  has  come  here  to-night  with  his 
right  hand  in  a  sling,  so  to  speak.  It  might  as 
well  be." 


HE  IS  HERE  101 

Daisy  looked  her  disappointment. 

"  Yes ;  something  or  other  hurt  his  thumb,  and 
it's  swelled  and  sore.  He  has  been  nursing  it  all 
day,  but  it's  of  no  use.  He  can't  play." 

"  And  the  violinist  has  disappointed  us  too," 
said  Daisy,  with  a  look  of  dismay. 

"  What !  Oh,  that  is  too  terrible  !  I  don't  care 
to  stay,  do  you  ?  No  dancing !  and  it  is  the  only 
chance  I  ever  get!  Mamma  won't  let  me  dance 
anywhere  else.  She  says  one  knows  just  who 
comes  at  Mrs.  St.  Albert's.  And  my  dress  is  so 
pretty,  too,  made  expressly  for  this  occasion. 
Don't  you  think  it's  pretty  ?  " 

"  Charming,"  said  Daisy,  as  the  girl  wheeled 
about  to  show  herself  from  all  points.  "  But  you 
know  dancing  is  not  to  commence  till  ten.  By 
that  time  somebody  may  be  found  who  will  play." 

"  Yes,  and  put  us  all  out.  I  hate  amateurs  on 
such  an  occasion.  They're  sure  to  spoil  every- 
thing." 

"  Oh,  well,  I  mean  to  enjoy  myself,  anyway," 
Daisy  said  light-heartedly.  She  had  just  caught 
sight  of  a  tall  figure,  a  dark,  bewildering  face,  and 
her  heart  gave  a  mighty  bound. 

"  He  is  here ! "  was  her  first  ecstatic  thought, 
"  and  I  didn't  dream  that  he  was  coming.  How 
kind  of  Mrs.  St.  Albert!  though  of  course  she 
couldn't  have  known  that  I  should  care,"  she 


102  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

added  to  herself  with  a  sort  of  shock  at  the  direc- 
tion her  thoughts  had  taken.  She  chatted  on  for 
a  few  moments  more  with  Rose  Dimmock,  and 
then  moved  on. 

Everywhere  she  encountered  the  octogenarian, 
Uncle  Sam,  enlightening  all  who  would  listen  to 
him  on  the  condition  of  the  thermometer,  with  as 
genuine  an  interest  as  if  he  had  been  the  veritable 
clerk  of  the  weather. 

"  Miss  Daisy !  I  had  not  hoped  to  see  you  so 
soon !  " 

It  was  Rush  Severn,  his  face  aglow,  and  that 
peculiar  expression  in  his  handsome  eyes,  that, 
while  it  flattered  the  girl,  she  had  almost  learned 
to  dread. 

He  quietly  pushed  a  chair  forward ;  and  as  she 
had  no  valid  excuse  to  give,  why  she  should  not 
sit  down,  she  took  it.  As  she  did  so,  he  watched 
her  movements  with  an  eagerness  that  implied  a 
desire  to  do  her  a  favor,  to  be  her  very  humble 
servant.  Never  before,  he  said  to  himself,  had 
she  looked  so  beautiful.  The  filmy  laces,  and  the 
clear  ivory  tints  of  her  complexion,  supplemented 
each  other. 

"  I  hear  you  are  an  invalid,"  she  said,  with  a 
sweeping,  uneasy  glance  about  the  room.  But  the 
face  she  looked  for  was  not  in  sight. 

"  A  very  healthy  one,  Miss  Daisy  ;  but  slight  as 


ABOUT  A  SONG  103 

my  infirmity  is,  I  fear  it  will  prove  to  be  a  great 
drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  the  evening.  You 
are  very  fond  of  dancing,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Very,"  said  Daisy,  wondering  to  herself  whether 
Temple  knew  how  to  dance,  and  deciding  that  he 
did  not.  "  Still,  there  are  other  things  quite  as 
pleasant." 

"  You  will  sing,"  he  said. 

"  Yes ;  some  little  trifle  that  I  can  accompany 
myself  with ;  some  old  song." 

"You  sing  old  songs  rarely  well.  I  wish  I 
might  dare  choose  the  song,"  he  said. 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  she  said  brightly.  "  What 
would  please  you  ?  "  she  asked  with  a  fervor  of 
interest  for  which  she  blushed  a  moment  later. 

"  It's  a  foolish  little  song,  yet  I  should  like  to 
hear  it,  though  it  is  old." 

"  What  is  it  ?     Perhaps  I  sing  it,"  she  said. 

"  I  think  you  do." 

It  was  on  his  lips  to  say,  "I  Love  But  You." 
At  the  last,  however,  his  audacity  .failed  him.  He 
dared  not  ask  for  the  song  with  her  eyes  looking 
into  his.  The  blood  rushed  to  his  head  for  a 
moment,  but  he  kept  his  equipoise  as  he  answered, 
" '  Speak  to  Me,'  by  Campana." 

"  That's  a  love-song,  isn't  it  ?  "  she  asked.  And 
a  voice  soft  and  rich  seemed  echoing  through  the 
silence,  "  I  don't  like  love-songs." 


104  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"Yes,  it  is  open  to  that  meaning,"  he  made 
reply.  "But,  then,  love-songs  are  always  in 
fashion." 

"  I  don't  think  I  remember  that  one,"  §he  said, 
"and  I  had  already  made  up  my  mind  to  sing 
another  —  something  with  which  I  can  play  my 
own  accompaniment." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  sing  at  all,"  he  said. 
"  But,  Miss  Daisy,  why  don't  you  like  love-songs  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  say  that,"  she  answered,  blushing 
rosy-red.  "  If  you  remember,  I  said  I  could  not 
play  that  particular  one." 

"  Your  manner  said  it,  then.  I  recall  feeling  as 
if  you  had  an  aversion  to  them." 

"  Really,  if  my  manner  of  speaking  is  so  sug- 
gestive," laughed  Daisy,  "I  had  better  hold  my 
tongue." 

"  It  was  really  my  fault  in  putting  that  inter- 
pretation upon  it,"  he  said  hastily.  "  I  am  always 
taking  things  for  granted,  though  not  in  any  very 
serious  way,"  he  added,  as  she  drew  back  a  little. 
"  Have  you  practised  the  organ  much  since  —  that 
morning  ?  " 

Daisy  shook  her  head.  Why  should  she  feel 
nervous  ?  But  she  did.  If  she  had  only  taken 
the  precaution  to  keep  Rose  with  her.  Rush 
Severn's  manner  was  altogether  too  pronounced, 
she  thought,  for  a  public  place  like  that.  People 


WHAT   WAS  IT  TO   HIM  105 

would  and  must  observe  it.  The  way  he  looked 
at  her,  claiming  her  entire  attention,  his  very 
attitude,  suggested  a  something  different  from 
usual.  He  sat  with  his  elbow  on  one  knee,  leaning 
forward,  his  cheek  upon  his  hand. 

And  just  at  that  moment  Andrew  Temple  came 
into  view.  He  had  not  seen  her  yet,  Daisy  thought, 
and  she  experienced  a  strange  desire  to  get  out  of 
sight.  What  a  king  among  men  he  was  !  Taller 
by  head  and  shoulders  than  any  one  there.  Surely, 
if  the  term  god-like  could  be  applied  to  a  mortal, 
it  might  be  to  him.  Every  curve  of  his  body 
was  grace  itself,  and  the  poise  of  his  head  was 
kingly. 

Daisy  wondered  as  he  came  nearer  if  he  had 
seen  her  yet,  and  became  conscious  of  an  almost 
insane  wish  to  get  out  of  Rush  Severn's  vicinity. 
Then  suddenly  her  mood  changed.  What  was  it 
to  Temple  who  she  talked  with,  or  what  she  did  ? 
She  turned  to  the  young  professor  with  a  laughing 
speech,  and  seemed  to  listen  in  an  intense  sort  of 
way  to  his  answer.  Her  manner  flattered  him,  and 
brought  all  that  was  brilliant  in  him  to  his  aid. 
Nor  was  Daisy  fairly  conscious  of  what  she  was 
doing  or  saying,  till  some  one  came  to  her  with  a 
request  from  Mrs.  St.  Albert:  Would  she  kindly 
favor  the  company  with  a  song  ? 

Daisy  started  to  her  feet,  so  did  Rush  Severn, 


106  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE   WILL 

with  the  offer  of  his  arm,  which  Daisy  took,  though 
not  without  an  inward  protest.  Of  course  Mr. 
Temple  must  cross  their  path,  see  her,  give  her  the 
courtesy  of  a  cold  bow,  and  leave  her,  angry  with 
herself  and  Rush  Severn,  who,  poor  fellow,  had 
never  felt  so  happy,  so  signally  honored,  in  his 
life.  Seating  her  at  the  piano,  he  stood  aside,  yet 
holding  his  vantage-ground  as  others  crowded 
round.  Song  after  song  was  called  for,  most  of 
them  old  favorites.  She  had  never  sung  with 
more  sweetness,  force,  and  skill. 

Quite  near  her,  and  where  she  could  see  him, 
stood  Andrew  Temple,  watching  the  delicate  curves 
of  the  youthful,  beautiful  figure,  the  soft  contour 
of  her  face,  and  drinking  in  the  tones  of  the 
superb  voice,  from  the  first  note  to  the  last,  with 
head  slightly  drooped,  and  eyes  dilated. 

"  Indeed,  I  cannot  sing  another,  song"  said  Daisy, 
to  one  of  her  admirers.  "  Professor,  give  me  my 
gloves,  please."  The  young  fellow,  proud  and 
happy,  hastened  to  comply  with  her  request,  and 
also  presented  her  with  a  bouquet  of  blush-roses, 
exquisitely  arranged  with  hot-house  flowers  and 
ferns. 

"  Oh,  how  lovely !  Am  I  to  thank  you  for 
this  ?  "  she  asked,  rising  from  the  piano. 

"Mr.  Temple  sent  them,"  whispered  Rose  Dini- 
mock,  at  her  elbow.  "  I  saw  him." 


HIS  FIRST  LOVE  107 

"  Ah  ! "  Daisy  buried  the  hot  blush  that  sprang 
to  her  cheeks  in  the  fragrant  flowers.  She  could 
not  even  look  towards  the  donor,  much  less  thank 
him.  Almost  unconsciously  she  took  Rush  Sev- 
ern's arm  again,  and  hurried  away  from  the  little 
group  about  the  piano.  More  than  one  looker-on 
remarked,  "  What  a  beautiful  couple  !  " 

So  thought  Andrew  Temple  as  he  watched 
them  till  they  were  lost  in  the  crowd.  He  had 
noticed  the  way  she  took  the  flowers,  —  her  glance 
of  surprise,  the  quick,  warm  color  that  mantled 
her  cheeks,  —  and  for  a  moment  his  pulses  beat 
high.  He  said  to  himself  that  he  must  not  suffer 
this  sudden  buoyancy  of  spirits  to  get  the  better  of 
him.  Though  this  was  the  first  woman  he  had 
ever  felt  that  he  could  love,  yet  delicacy  pre- 
scribed a  very  rigid  discretion,  for  he  was  years 
older  in  every  thing  that  pertained  to  life  and 
experience.  Rush  Severn  loved  her.  He  was 
young,  possessed  of  talents  that  ran  in  the  same 
direction  as  her  own,  and  would  undoubtedly 
make  a  career  for  himself.  No  responsibilities 
had  weighted  him,  making  him  old  before  his 
time,  cutting  off  the  delights  of  all  those  posses- 
sions in  which  a  man  glories.  He,  probably,  had 
nothing  to  regret  in  his  past  that  had  given  him 
sleepless  nights  and  anxious  days. 

"  No ;  I  must  resign  myself  to  disappointment," 


108        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

he  said,  "and  make  Fame  my  mistress,  since  to 
make  a  home  is  denied  ^me." 

So  he  threaded  his  way  through  the  throngs  of 
laughing,  well-dressed  people,  spoke  a  word  or 
two  to  the  hostess,  and  declared  to  himself  that 
he  would  leave  at  once. 


SOLID  ENJOYMENT  109 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHAT  THE  RECTOR  DID. 

REFRESHMENTS  had  been  served.  The  rector 
sat  in  an  ante-room,  a  plate  heaped  high  with 
luscious  grapes,  beside  him,  on  a  pretty  table  of 
ormolu. 

"  You  know  I  very  seldom  eat  anything  but 
fruit  after  the  sun  goes  down,"  he  said,  as  Mrs. 
St.  Albert  pressed  upon  his  attention  some  of  the 
dainties  of  the  table. 

"  But  these  are  South  American  delicacies,  — 
fruits  in  sirup,  in  sugar.  They  came  down  the 
Amazon.  Amazon  is  no  longer  the  proper  pro- 
nunciation. Cleopatra  herself  —  it  is  not  good 
taste  any  more  to  say  Cleopatra  —  never  touched 
anything  more  toothsome.  Do  try  them;"  and 
she  smiled  winsomely,  her  dimples  making  her 
well-nigh  irresistible. 

"  Not  one,"  he  said,  laughing,  and  shaking  his 
head.  "  I  am  going  to  settle  down  to  solid  enjoy- 
ment. Come  here,  Temple,  and  help  me,"  he 
called  out,  as  Andrew  was  passing  the  door. 


110  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

"  Excuse  me.  I'm  going  home,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  Nonsense,  man.  Can't  you  allow  yourself  a 
little  enjoyment?  I  suppose  there  are  card-tables 
here,  somewhere,  and  a  smoking-room ;  eh,  Mrs. 
St.  Albert?" 

"  Thanks ;  but  I  don't  know  one  card  from  an- 
other—  and — you  forget  that  I  never  smoke," 
was  Temple's  answer,  as  he  lounged  into  the 
room. 

"  Pardon  me,  but  will  you  allow  me  to  look  at 
you  ?  "  Mrs.  St.  Albert  asked,  surveying  him  as  if 
he  were  some  new  species  from  Wonderland,  her 
laughing  eyes  bright  with  mischief.  "If  you 
don't  know  one  card  from  another,  and  never 
smoke,  I  can  understand  why  my  neighbors  are  so 
busy  about  you.  You  are  not  a  man  like  other 
men,  but  a  sort  of  demigod  in  your  own  person, 
—  make  your  own  heaven,  and  all  that.  Pray, 
would  you  like  to  be  worshipped  ?  You  ought  to 
be.  You  put  me  in  mind  of  Nana,  my  old  nurse," 
she  continued,  as  he  stood  the  running  fire  of  her 
jokes  manfully.  "  She  never  saw  but  one  Episto- 
palian  clergyman,  fo'  shu,  but  he  wor  de  goddlesses 
man  dat  she  eber  did  see,  fo'  he  put  his  night- 
gown ober  his  does  to  keep  'em  clean  ebery  time 
he  went  into  de  chuch,  an'  cleanless  wor  nex'  to 
godiless." 


ODD  BUT  SENSIBLE  111 

"  Oh,  fie !  Mrs.  St.  Albert !  "  said  the  rector, 
laughing  in  spite  of  himself,  "  you  are  coming  too 
close  to  the  cloth  now." 

"  Am  I  ?  Then  I'll  leave  you,  and  get  away 
altogether.  You're  sure  you  won't  have  any  of 
these  dainties  ?  '  Sweets  to  the  sweet,'  you  know. 
I  wish  you  joy  of  your  feast." 

"  What  a  very  odd  little  lady !  "  said  Andrew 
Temple,  in  a  half-amused,  half-vexed  tone. 

"  Just  one  of  the  purest-hearted,  kindest  little 
women  in  the  world ;  only  she  has  a  way  of  her 
own.  She  is  solidly  sensible,  with  all  her  oddities. 
I  don't  know  of  any  members  who  are  more  con- 
sistent or  more  valuable  than  Mr.  St.  Albert  and 
his  wife." 

"So  the  neighbors  talk  about  me,  put  me  down 
atheist,  and  all  that,  I  suppose,"  said  Temple. 

"  Very  likely,"  said  the  rector,  laughing.  "  You 
are  trying  to  drag  me  into  an  inferno,  and  I  am 
trying  to  hoist  you  into  heaven.  I  wonder  which 
will  succeed,  according  to  their  calculations.  But 
come,  take  some  grapes.  We  can  both  agree  upon 
the  fact  that  they  are  good  for  both  soul  and  body. 
Sit  down,  Andrew  Temple." 

So  Temple  allowed  himself  to  subside  into  an 
easy-chair,  though  still  strong  in  his  purpose  to 
leave. 

Meantime  Daisy  was  searching  for  her  brother. 


112        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"You'll  find  him  in  the  blue  room,  talking  to 
that  awful  man,"  said  Rose,  in  passing. 

"  What  awful  man  ? "  asked  Daisy,  who  had 
dismissed  Rush  Severn  in  the  most  summary  man- 
ner ;  that  is,  she  had  run  away  from  him. 

"  That  Mr.  Temple,"  said  Rose,  with  a  curling 
lip. 

"  I  wish  you  to  understand  that  Mr.  Temple  is 
our  —  my  brother's  friend,"  said  Daisy  with  a 
little  fire. 

"  And  yours  too,  I  fancy.  Well,  you  needn't 
flush  up  that  way.  Nobody  says  he  isn't  hand- 
some or  famous,  but  brains  and  beauty  are  not 
everything." 

Daisy  parted  the  portiere  which  divided  the 
pretty  little  blue  room,  with  its  choice  divan  and 
bric-d-brac,  from  the  main  rooms.  Almost  every- 
body had  gone  in  to  supper.  Mrs.  St.  Albert  had 
carried  off  the  rector's  wife  on  her  arm. 

"  Arthur,"  she  said  softly. 

"  Come  in,  little  one,"  was  the  quick  answer, 
and  Daisy  found  herself  beside  her  brother,  and 
opposite  his  friend,  into  whose  brilliant  eyes  a 
sudden  pleasure  had  come. 

"  You  find  me  feasting  on  prisoned  sunshine," 
said  the  rector.  "  Look  at  these  lucent  globes 
bursting  with  wine.  They  grew  in  vineyards 
down  the  slopes  of  California  hills.  They  are  the 


A  BEAUTIFUL  PICTUKE  113 

king's  own  fruit,  and  a  prince  is  eating  them. 
Have  some?  By  the  way,  where  is  Mary?  I 
haven't  seen  her  since  we  came  in.  She  is  getting 
a  little  wild,  I  fear,  for  a  matron  of  her  staid  char- 
acter. Having  a  good  time,  Daisy  ?  " 

"Yes  —  only"  —  she  stammered,  paused,  and 
looked  down. 

"  Why  are  you  not  out  to  supper  ?  " 

"  We  girls  don't  care  a  bit  for  supper,  we  are  all 
so  disappointed." 

"  Disappointed !  what  about  ?  "  asked  the  rector. 
Daisy's  arm  had  stolen  round  her  brother's  neck. 
Andrew  Temple  sat  back  and  enjoyed  the  beauti- 
ful picture  she  made  with  that  slight  shade  of  sad- 
ness or  annoyance  on  her  speaking  features. 

"  Why,  you  know  we  always  dance  at  Mrs.  St. 
Albert's  parties." 

"  Yes,  and  you  dance  to-night,  don't  you  ?  " 

"No." 

"Why  not,  pray?  Everybody  seems  well  and 
happy." 

"  There's  no  one  to  play." 

"  Where's  the  fiddler  ?  " 

"  Somebody  died  in  his  family,  and  he  couldn't 
come." 

"  Well,  where's  Severn  ?  " 

"His  hand  is  hurt.  He  tried,  but  he  couldn't 
play." 


114  IP  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Well,  —  some  of  you  can  play." 

"  No  —  we  couldn't  —  we  should  keep  horrid 
time  —  and  besides,  we  all  want  to  dance.  This 
is  the  only  time  we  get  a  chance,  you  know." 

"  Oho !  well,  I  don't  see,  then,  but  they  must 
do  without  the  dance." 

"  Oh,  brother !  " 

"  Oh,  sister !  Sit  down  and  engage  in  a  little 
wise  conversation  with  Temple  and  myself,  then. 
Won't  that  do  instead?  We  two  old  fellows 
don't  want  to  dance,  consequently  can't  under- 
stand why  you  do." 

She  put  her  hand  on  his  lips.  Temple  drew  a 
long  breath.  The  touch  of  those  pretty  fingers, 
and  a  kiss  on  them,  would  have  been  rapture  to 
him. 

"Temple,  don't  you  play?"  asked  the  rector, 
taking  some  more  grapes. 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  I  don't,"  said  the  other 
meekly. 

"  Nor  dance  ?  " 

"  I'm  sorry  to  say  I  do,"  was  the  response. 

"  Sorry  you  do,  and  sorry  you  don't.  That's  a 
sort  of  paradox  I  don't  understand." 

"  Because,  of  course,  I'm  too  old,''  was  the  grim 
reply. 

"  Nonsense.  It  would  be  a  good  thing  for  you, 
a  physical  reaction  that  might  do  the  soul  good, 


A  WISE  DECISION  115 

in  a  way.  Well,  Daisy,  I  don't  see  what  you  are 
going  to  do.  I'm  sorry  for  the  girls,  I  really  am. 
I  want  them  to  enjoy  themselves.  But  there  it 
is  —  no  music." 

"  Oh,  brother ! "  he  looked  up  at  the  pleading 
tone,  pretending  not  to  understand. 

"The  girls  all  say,  that  is  —  Mrs.  St.  Albert 
says" — she  stopped  short. 

"  Well,  what  do  the  girls  all  say  ?  What  does 
Mrs.  St.  Albert  say?" 

"  But  you  never  would." 

"  I  never  would  what  ?  You  are  beating  about 
the  bush  with  a  vengeance." 

"  Well,  but  —  would  you  play  for  them  ?  " 

She  stood  a  little  back  now :  the  coaxing  face, 
the  sparkling  eyes,  so  wistful,  the  whole  charming 
pose,  fascinated  Temple.  His  very  heart  was 
drawn  out  of  him  at  the  sight. 

"  I !  utterly  dreadful !  What  would  the  wise- 
acres say  ?  Temple,  how  do  you  think  it  would 
look  for  the  rector  to  play  for  his  flock  —  the 
lambs,  I  mean  —  to  dance  ?  I'm  afraid  the  sheep 
would  make  a  great  to-do.  However,  sweetheart, 
tell  the  children  not  to  worry.  I'll  play,  of  course, 
for  an  hour,  rather  than  they  should  go  home  sor- 
rowful, —  no  longer.  Remember,  an  hour,  by.  the 
clock.  It  will  be  eleven,  then,  and  I  am  for  mod- 
eration in  all  things.  There,  go  tell  the  young- 
sters to  get  ready." 


116  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Prince,  you  are  worthy  of  your  name ! "  said 
Temple,  looking  his  admiration. 

"  He  is  the  dearest  brother  in  the  world !  "  said 
Daisy,  with  grateful  emphasis ;  and  her  shapely 
hand  went  patting  over  his  shoulder,  while  her 
happy,  dimpled  face  was  a  study. 

Andrew  Temple  opened  his  lips,  shut  them,  then 
making  one  supreme  effort,  he  asked,  — 

"  Miss  Daisy,  may  I  have  one  dance  ?  " 

"Why,  certainly.  You  shall  have  the  first," 
said  Daisy ;  and  away  she  went,  dizzy  with  pleas- 
ure, yet  asking  herself  if  he  thought  she  had  been 
too  willing. 

"  I  needn't  have  told  him  which  one,"  she  said 
to  herself,  biting  her  lip.  "  I  might  have  left  the 
choice  to  him." 

Nevertheless,  when  she  found  herself  in  his  firm 
clasp,  moving  to  the  beautiful  rhythmic  measure  of 
the  waltz,  she  forgot  all  annoyance.  Her  heart 
was  at  rest.  Forever  and  forever  she  could  have 
gone  on  with  that  majestic  figure  beside  her,  the 
dark,  kindling  eyes  looking  into  her  own  in  the 
brief  pauses  of  the  dance. 


A  SPICE  OF  THE  WORLD  117 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

IMPULSIVE   WORDS. 

"WILL  you  rest  a  little  while?"  Daisy's  part- 
ner asked,  in  his  singularly  musical  voice,  as  there 
came  a  lull,  and  the  dancing  ceased  for  a  few 
moments. 

"  Yes,  though  I  am  not  a  bit  tired,"  said  Daisy 
naively. 

"  Nor  am  I,"  he  responded,  leading  her  to  a 
seat. 

"I  forgot  —  I  promised  a  dance  to  Professor 
Severn.  I  wonder  if  he  is  coming  now,  to  claim 
it ; "  and  there  was  an  air  of  annoyance  in  her 
manner  that  she  was  hardly  conscious  of  showing. 

"  Can't  Professor  Severn  wait  ?  or  are  you  very 
punctilious  about  these  engagements?  He  does 
not  seem  to  see  us  yet.  It  won't  hurt  him  to  go 
hunting  a  little  while.  Do  you  know  that  I  never 
thought  so  highly  of  your  brother  as  I  do  now  ? 
It  is  so  grand  in  him  to  lend  himself  to  the  task 
of  making  his  people  happy  !  There  is  that  spice 
of  the  world  in  him  which  I  think  a  clergyman 


118  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

should  have  in  order  to  win  the  world's  devotees. 
I  can't  tell  you  how  much  I  admire  him." 

"  My  brother  is  a  wise  man  in  his  generation,  I 
think,"  Daisy  said  with  a  winning  smile.  "At 
any  rate,  he  makes  himself  friends  on  all  sides. 
Some  of  the  people  won't  like  this,  but  he  will 
make  it  all  right  with  them." 

Just  then  Rush  Severn  met  some  one  mid-way 
of  the  long  room,  who  must  have  asked  a  service 
of  him,  for  he  turned  round  at  once  and  went  out 
into  the  hall. 

"There,  we  are  left  for  a  little  longer  chat, 
after  all,"  said  Temple,  giving  himself  up  soul 
and  body  to  the  chances  of  the  moment,  and  smil- 
ing in  her  eyes  in  a  way  that  made  them  drop. 

"How  glad  I  am  that  I  came,"  he  began,  in  a 
low  voice ;  "  and  that  I  had  the  courage  to  ask 
you  to  dance." 

"  The  courage  !  "  she  repeated.  "  Why,  were 
you  afraid  of  me  ?  "  and  she  laughed  at  the  incon- 
gruity of  the  idea. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  gravely. 

"  And  why,  pray  ?  " 

"  Because  I  know  what  people  think  about  me 
because  I  dare  voice  my  opinions,  and  —  what 
they  may,  probably  will,  say  to  you  about  me. 
Your  brother  understands  me.  Few  men  do,  or 
women  either.  And  therefore  I  said  to  myself,  I 


A  BROKEN  RESOLUTION  119 

will  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  this  party  to 
which  the  presence  of  one  or  two  persons  only 
lends  interest  to  me  sufficient  to  break  over  my 
barrier  of  isolation.  But  something  drew  me  here 
as  with  a  poAverf ul  magnet.  I  said  I  will  not,  with 
all  the  resolution  of  my  soul,  and  turned  round 
and  came." 

"  I  wonder  what  that  something  was  ?  "  Daisy 
thought,  but  did  not  speak,  only  with  her  eloquent 
eyes. 

"  And  now  I  am  selfishly  detaining  you  from 
the  dance,  and  the  hour  is  flying.  I  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  myself." 

"  You  are  not  detaining  me.  I  don't  care  so 
much  about  dancing,  myself.  I  wanted  the  others 
to  have  a  good  time,"  said  Daisy.  "  I  must  keep 
my  promise  to  Professor  Severn,  of  course,  but 
just  now  he  seems  to  be  engaged  elsewhere." 

"  Professor  Severn  is  —  looks,  at  least,  like  a 
very  clever  fellow,"  said  Temple,  smoothing  the 
golden-brown  mustache  that  did  not  conceal  a  pair 
of  finely  cut  lips. 

"  He  is  a  very  clever  teacher,"  said  Daisy 
demurely.  "  Not  as  strict,  perhaps,  as  he  ought 
to  be,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Not,  perhaps,  with  you,"  the  other  said  with  a 
quick,  searching  glance. 

She  laughed,  coloring  a  little. 


120  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know  about  that,"  she  said. 
"  One  can't  question  or  criticise  one's  teacher,  you 
see,"  and  she  looked  up  archly  into  his  face.  He 
watched  her  features  with  an  eagerness  in  which, 
unconsciously,  he  put  all  of  desire,  of  passionate 
love,  that  possessed  him  just  then. 

"  To  be  your  teacher,"  he  said,  under  his  breath, 
repressed  tenderness  in  every  word,  "I  would 
give  ten  years  of  my  life." 

"And  what  would  you  teach  me?"  she  dared 
to  ask  smilingly,  though  she  trembled  from  head 
to  foot  with  the  fear  and  the  hope  that  were 
mingled  in  her  bosom. 

"  I  would  teach  you  to  love  me." 

The  words  were  spoken,  but  instantly  there 
rushed  over  him  an  overwhelming  regret.  What 
had  he  dared  to  say  to  this  innocent,  confiding 
girl?  How  had  his  tongue  rushed  headlong  of 
his  desire,  and  said  that  that  could  not  be  unsaid  ? 
What  punishment  did  he  not  deserve  ?  He  dared 
not  look  at  Daisy,  or  he  might  have  taken  courage. 
Surely  he  would  have  seen  the  flash  of  surprise, 
delight,  and  modest  confusion  with  which  she  had 
heard  that  which  no  true  man  could  say  thought- 
lessly, or  with  cool,  calculating  speech.  As  for 
her,  her  thoughts  were  all  in  a  tumult,  and  yet  she 
was  so  happy  that  she  was  frightened  at  her  own 
emotions. 


HER  ANGELIC  PITY  121 

The  words  had  been  spoken  to  her,  of  her,  and 
by  the  man  who,  she  herself  dared  acknowledge 
to  herself,  possessed  more  of  her  thoughts  than 
she  had  ever  given  to  one  not  in  her  own  immedi- 
ate family.  He  was  great,  handsome,  and  kind ; 
and  yet  he  loved  her  —  a  simple  girl,  whose  only 
wonder-gift  was  her  voice.  She  could  not  have 
spoken  if  it  had  been  to  save  her  life.  Fortu- 
nately, at  that  moment,  Rush  Severn  came  to 
claim  her  hand  for  the  dance.  He  had  come  in 
from  another  direction,  and  she  had  not  seen  him. 
Andrew  Temple  looked  up  with  burning  eyeballs 
as  the  shadow  of  the  young  man  fell  upon  him. 

"  Mr.  Temple,  you  will  excuse  me,"  said  Daisy 
with  gentle  dignity,  and  then,  in  an  impulse  of 
tenderness,  held  out  her  hand,  gave  him  one  shy 
glance  that  heightened  the  charms  of  her  blushing 
face,  and  glided  away  on  Rush  Severn's  arm. 

"  Now  I  will  go,"  said  Temple  to  himself, 
biting  his  lips  fiercely.  "  She  did  right  to  make 
no  reply  when  I  made  such  a  fool  of  myself.  In 
pity  —  angelic  pity  —  she  gave  me  her  hand. 
There  was  pity  in  her  sweet  face.  I  took  an  un- 
manly advantage  of  her  to  speak  as  I  did.  What 
would  Prince  think  of  me,  I  wonder?  Well, 
well ;  I  have  shut  the  doors  of  paradise  on  myself, 
stumbling  fool  that  I  am.  And  yet,  —  oh,  my 
God  !  how  I  love  that  girl !  " 


122        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MARGY'S  CURIOSITY. 

WHEN  Daisy  sought  her  pillow,  it  was  one 
o'clock. 

The  moon  shone  brightly  in  at  the  window  near 
her  bed.  Her  eyes  were  wide  open,  a  glad  and 
tender  light  in  their  blue  depths,  and  her  face  wore 
an  expression  of  almost  angelic  repose. 

"  He  loves  ine  !  He  loves  me  ! "  so  she  kept 
repeating  to  herself.  "  And  yet  he  looked  after- 
wards as  if  sorry  he  had  spoken.  Perhaps  all 
men  feel  that  way,  because  we  women  never  know 
what  to  say.  I'm  sure  I  did  not.  How  could  I 
tell  him  '  I  was  never  so  happy  in  my  life '  ?  How 
could  I  say,  '  I  do  love  you  now  '  f  —  though  I  do  ! 
I  do !  " 

She  hid  her  face  in  the  pillow. 

"  He  is  so  much  grander  than  other  men,"  she 
went  on,  "  that  he  seems  kingly  in  comparison. 
When  he  walks,  his  steps  are  long  and  free  —  and 
that  dance !  Ah !  I  could  have  glided  on  for 
hours.  And  I  know  he  loves  me.  I  have  hoped 


NOW    I  KNOW  123 

all  along,  but  now  I  know  !  Sometime  —  not  right 
away,  but  perhaps  soon  —  he  will  speak  to  Arthur. 
I  know  he  is  the  soul  of  honor.  What  will 
Arthur  say  ?  Oh  !  I  wish  I  knew." 

" '  I  would  teach  you  to  love  me,'  he  said.  I  do 
believe  the  words  were  a  surprise  to  him  as  well 
as  to  me.  But,"  and  in  her  face  there  came  a 
sudden  brightness,  "  he  said  them  !  " 

At  breakfast  on  the  following  morning,  the  con- 
versation naturally  turned  upon  the  party.  Margy 
was  waiting  upon  table,  dressed  as  usual,  the 
snowy  apron  and  trim  cap  which  she  always  wore 
in  the  early  part  of  the  day,  setting  off  her 
comely  face  and  figure.  The  twins  were  still 
asleep. 

"  It  seemed  so  odd,"  said  Mary,  addressing  her 
husband,  "  to  see  you  at  the  piano,  playing  for  the 
dancing." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  one  speak  of  it  ?  "  asked  the 
rector,  of  Daisy. 

"  Only  to  praise  you,"  she  answered  with  a 
beaming  smile. 

"  Ah  !  I  can  guess  who  that  was,"  he  responded. 
uPoor  children!  I  shouldn't  have  slept  if  I  had 
let  them  do  without  their  dance.  And  yet  it  was 
rather  an  anomalous  position,"  he  added,  smiling. 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  got  into  the  papers." 

"  Oh,  dear !     I  hope  not,"  said  Mary  nervously. 


124  [IF  SHE  WILL,     SHE  WILL 

She  was  holding  the  cup  while  Margy  made  ready 
to  pour  the  coffee. 

"No  harm  done,  I  imagine,"  the  rector  said, 
laughing.  "  By  the  way,  Daisy,  how  did  you 
enjoy  your  dance  with  Temple  ?  I  never  dreamed 
he  could  dance." 

Mary  gave  a  little  cry.  All  eyes  turned  towards 
her. 

"  I  never  knew  you  so  careless  before,  Margy. 
That  coffee  is  scalding  hot."  She  had  put  down 
her  cup  and  was  wiping  her  hand. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  said  the  woman  with  a  colorless 
face.  "  I  hope  it  isn't  very  bad." 

"  Well,  bad  enough,"  said  Mary,  more  gently. 
"  See,  it  is  blistering.  Never  mind,  it  will  stop 
smarting  soon,  I  hope.  Yes,"  she  turned  to  Daisy, 
"  I  saw  Mr.  Temple  dance,  and,  for  so  tall  a  man, 
I  must  say  he  was  grace  itself.  Daisy  was  like  a 
wisp  of  straw,  carried  round.  She  had  nothing  to 
do." 

"  It  was  delicious,"  said  Daisy,  "  the  very  poetry 
of  motion.  I  missed  him,  though,  after  dancing 
with  Rush  Severn.  Did  you  see  him  before  he 
left?" 

"  No,"  said  her  brother ;  "  but  he  came  over  to 
the  piano  and  stood  awhile,  looking  somehow,  dazed. 

"  '  Are  you  tired,  Temple  ? '  I  asked ;  and  he 
gave  me  a  queer  answer,  quite  Temple-esque. 


NEURALGIA  AGAIN  125 

"  '  Yes  ;  body  and  soul.'  Then  he  was  silent 
for  a  few  moments,  but  spoke  again. 

" '  I  envy  you,  Prince,'  he  said.  '  I  would  give 
anything  to  be  able  to  make  so  much  happiness  as 
you  do.' 

"  '  Just  come  into  the  church,'  said  I,  '  and  I'll 
teach  you  to  be  happy,  and  make  others  happy.' 

'"If  I  ever  do,'  he  said  earnestly,  ' it  will  be 
through  your  example.' 

"  I  had  to  swallow  the  compliment ;  and,  indeed, 
I  believe  he  meant  it.  Andrew  Temple  seems  to 
me  a  singularly  honest,  truthful,  reliable  man." 

Margy  set  down  some  sauce-dishes  at  that 
moment;  but  her  hand  must  have  shaken,  for 
they  toppled  over,  and  all  came  down  in  a 
heap. 

"  Margy,  I  believe  you're  suffering  with  neural- 
gia again,"  said  Mr.  Prince,  after  the  slight  con- 
fusion had  subsided. 

"  No ;  but  I'm  not  as  well  as  usual,  I  believe," 
was  the  woman's  comment,  as  she  gathered  up  the 
dishes. 

"  Indeed,  you  can't  be  well.  You're  as  white  as 
a  sheet.  Daisy  and  I  can  attend  to  things  now. 
Go  rest  yourself  a  while,"  Mary  said. 

The  woman  gave  one  wild  look  round  the  table, 
and  then  took  advantage  of  the  offered  favor,  and 
went  out  into  the  large,  sunny  kitchen 


126  IF  SHE  WILL,    SHE  WILL 

Zue  stood  by  the  window.  She  was  placing  an 
array  of  paper  figures  on  the  table. 

"  That's  my  father,"  she  said,  turning  to  her 
mother,  and  indicating  a  tall  old  gentleman  cut 
out  of  some  magazine.  "I'm  going  to  have  a 
father  anyway,  if  he  is  only  paper.  And  that's 
my  grandfather.  He's  a  king  without  a  crown. 
Kings  make  good  grandfathers,  don't  they  ?  They 
give  you  everything  you  want.  Stop !  Stop !  " 
shrilly  and  angrily,  for  up  went  her  mother's 
hand,  and  swept  all  the  puppets  off  the  table  and 
out  of  the  window. 

"  I  won't  have  you  all  the  time  talking  about 
fathers  and  grandfathers.  You  shall  stop  this 
nonsense,  or  I'll  burn  every  picture  you've  got." 

"  You're  a  cruel,  wicked  mother,"  sobbed  Zue, 
with  a  scared  face.  "  What  makes  you  look  at 
me  that  way  ?  I  will  talk  of  fathers  and  grand- 
fathers; and  if  you  burn  them  I  know  where  to 
get  more,  lots  more.  I  can  make  them  myself." 

The  woman  did  not  answer.  She  was  white  to 
the  lips.  With  a  quick,  fierce  gesture  she  turned 
away. 

"  Yes,  he  was  there,"  she  muttered.  "  He  goes 
everywhere  she  goes.  He  means  something. 
Dance  —  yes  ;  and  gamble  and  carouse.  Oh!  how 
he  is  covering  up  his  real  character !  I  don't 
wonder  he  is  tired,  body  and  soul.  It  is  keeping 


JEALOUSY  KEEN  AND  TEKRIBLE  127 

up  the  farce  that  wearies  him.  I  shall  have  to 
tell !  I  must !  And  yet  I  had  rather  die.  I 
might  leave  here,  —  but,  oh!  where  should  I  go? 
It  is  the  only  place  I  can  be  happy  in.  Where 
could  I  go  ?  " 

She  walked  back  and  forth  through  the  sunny 
kitchen,  her  hands  clinched  and  her  face  work- 
ing. The  very  vigor  and  heat  of  her  imaginings 
changed  her  features,  and  gave  to  their  usual  calm 
and  stateliness  a  sort  of  fury.  Jealousy  keen  and 
terrible  —  jealousy,  too,  of  one  she  loved  and 
delighted  in  —  added  to  her  torture. 

"And  yet  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  him, 
nothing  !  "  she  muttered.  "  If  he  offered  me  him- 
self and  all  his  money  and  fame  for  compensation, 
I'd  spurn  them.  I  wouldn't  look  at  him,  —  no, 
not  even  for  Zue's  sake,  I  hate  him  so.  And  he's 
in  love  with  Miss  Daisy ;  and,  far,  far  worse,  she 
is  in  love  with  him.  Oh,  one  can  tell  by  the  way 
her  face  lights  up." 

"  Where  is  Zue,  Margy  ?  " 

The  woman  paused  in  her  walk  as  Daisy's  sweet 
face  appeared. 

"  She's  out-of-doors,  somewhere,"  said  Zue's 
mother,  going  towards  one  of  the  windows. 

"  I  brought  her  some  candies  from  the  party," 
said  Daisy,  displaying  a  paper  parcel. 

"  Here  I  am  !  "  said  Zue,  running  joyously  for- 


128        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

ward.  "  Miss  Daisy,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  all 
safe.  I  Avas  frightened  last  night  because  mother 
said  you  were  going  into  danger." 

"  What  made  you  ? "  asked  Daisy,  turning 
towards  Margy. 

"  The  child  don't  know  what  she's  talking 
about  half  the  time,"  Margy  made  reply. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  said  Zue.  "Oh!  Miss  Daisy,  is 
your  father  dead  ?  " 

"  Long  ago,"  said  Daisy. 

"  And  your  mother?  " 

"  Yes,"  Daisy  answered  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  I  wish  my  mother  was  dead,"  said  the  child,  in 
all  seriousness. 

"  Why,  Zue  !  what  a  wicked  wish !  What  a 
mean  girl  you  must  be  !  "  said  Daisy,  horrified,  and 
casting  a  deprecating  glance  towards  Margy. 

"I'm  sure  she  don't  wish  it  more  than  her 
mother  does  sometimes,"  said  Margy  in  a  depressed 
voice.  "  Only  who  would  the  child  go  to,  poor 
little  wretch  ?  " 

"  Miss  Daisy  would  take  care  of  me,"  said  the 
girl. 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Daisy,  quickly 
and  coldly. 

"Well,  then,  I'd  take  care  of  myself,"  was  the 
child's  comment.  "  I  guess  I  could,"  she  added, 
arching  her  head  proudly. 


WILD  OATS  129 

"  Are  you  better,  Margy  ?  "  Daisy  asked,  as  the 
child  took  herself  and  her  sweetmeats  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room. 

"  Oh,  yes !  much  better,"  the  woman  made 
effort  to  answer.  "  So  you  had  a  good  time  last 
night,"  she  added,  rapidly  changing  the  subject. 
"  Nobody  there  looked  as  pretty  as  you,  I  warrant." 

"  Oh,  yes !  there  were  some  beautiful  dresses," 
said  Daisy. 

"And  who  did  you  dance  with?"  the  woman 
asked  with  the  freedom  of  a  privileged  character. 

"The  professor  and  one  or  two  .others,"  Daisy 
said  evasively. 

"  I  thought  you  said  that  Mr.  Temple  danced," 
said  Margy. 

"  He  does,  beautifully.  One  would  hardly  think 
so,  seeing  him  under  ordinary  circumstances." 

"Why  ?  "  the  word  was  almost  fiercely  uttered. 

"  Because  he  is  so  grave  and  wise  and  learned." 

"  That's  because  he  is  old.  Men  change  so. 
They  sow  their  wild  oats,  too.  I  wonder  if  he 
ever  sowed  his  !  " 

"  He  doesn't  seem  so  very  old  to  me,"  said 
Daisy. 

"  You're  eighteen.  He's  just  seventeen  years 
older." 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  Daisy 
wonderingly. 


130  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  I  judge  by  his  appearance,"  said  the  woman, 
holding  her  bitter  feelings  in  check.  "  Men  show 
their  age.  They  can't  disguise  it  as  women  can." 
She  laughed,  trying  to  speak  lightly. 

Daisy  felt  as  if  some  one  had  wounded  her. 
Something  like  resentment  surged  up  in  her 
bosom. 

"  You  never  seemed  to  like  him.  You  never 
speak  well  of  him,"  she  said,  watching  the  changes 
that  passed  over  Margy's  face.  "  One  would  think 
you  had  some  personal  feeling  against  him." 

Margy  laughed.  The  laugh  had  a  hollow  sound. 
Unconsciously  she  had  come  near  to  showing  her 
own  suffering,  and  pride  came  to  her  rescue. 

"  He  isn't  the  kind  of  man  I  like,"  she  said, 
"  but  it's  only  a  fancy,  perhaps.  And  what  are 
my  fancies?  I'm  fonder  of  the  professor,  who 
seems  so  young  and  innocent.  I'll  wager  he  has 
had  no  wild  oats  to  sow.  For  you  see  when  a  man 
lives  to  that  age  without  marrying  —  but  there ! 
What  do  I  meddle  for?  And  there's  the  break- 
fast dishes  standing,  I  declare." 

Not  only  one,  but  two  or  three  thorns  seemed 
pricking  into  Daisy's  consciousness,  as  she  left  the 
kitchen,  and  went  into  the  study.  That  inde- 
finable something  in  Margy's  manner  that  worried 
her  whenever  she  spoke  of  Temple,  made  her 
uneasy.  That  something  was  wrong  with  Margy, 


WHICH,   HATE  OR  LOVE  131 

she  could  not  help  seeing,  and  that  the  suffering, 
from  whatever  cause  it  sprung,  was  mental. 

"  Curious,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  Margy  never 
has  these  turns  and  humors  except  when  Mr. 
Temple  comes  here.  She  must  have  taken  a  sud- 
den hatred  to  him,  or  else  —  I  have  heard  of 
love  at  first  sight."  She  laughed  gleefully. 
"  Maybe  the  poor  thing  is  in  love  with  him." 

She  fairly  danced  at  the  thought;  her  slim 
young  figure  describing  curves  and  circles  that 
would  have  set  an  artist  wild.  The  idea  of  Margy 
being  in  love  tickled  her  sense  of  humor,  and,  of 
all  men  in  the  world,  with  Andrew  Temple  ! 

The  bell  rang.  Daisy  paused  in  her  fantastic 
gyrations,  blushing  furiously.  Her  first  impulse 
was  to  run.  She  heard  the  rector  coming  down- 
stairs, playfully  insisting  on  having  the  last  word 
with  his  wife.  If  it  should  be  Temple  !  And  she 
had  been  thinking  such  ridiculous  things.  But 
suddenly  the  impulse  wavered,  as  her  hand  touched 
the  door-knob.  It  was  not  Andrew  Temple,  but, 
instead,  Rush  Severn,  inquiring  for  her. 

"  It  is  lesson-day,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  but  why 
has  he  come  so  early  ?  " 

Another  moment  the  young  man  was  in  the 
study. 

"  Excuse  me  for  coming  before  the  hour,"  he  said, 
smiling,  his  eyes  kindling  at  sight  of  her,  "  but  I 


132        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

have  an  urgent  business  call  that  will  take  me  to 
the  city  in  the  middle  of  the  day.  Lovely  weather, 
isn't  it?"  He  drew  off  his  gloves  and  placed 
them  on  the  table,  as  Daisy  led  the  way  to  the 
parlor.  "  How  are  you  feeling  after  the  gayety  of 
last  night?  I  don't  see  that  you  look  at  all 
fatigued." 

"Oh,  no!  I  had  plenty  of  sleep,"  said  Daisy. 
"  I  thought  perhaps  your  invalid  hand  would 
excuse  me  from  a  lesson  to-day.  I  meant  to  have 
an  idle  time  of  it." 

She  looked  so  arch  and  pretty  that  the  young 
man  could  find  no  words  for  a  moment,  so  used 
his  eyes  eloquently. 

"But,  after  all,  you  don't  have  to  use  your 
hand,"  she  added ;  "  and  I  don't  suppose  it  will 
interfere  with  your  tongue  at  all.  You  can  scold 
just  as  vigorously." 

"  Do  I  ever  scold  ?  "  he  asked  with  an  expres- 
sion so  pathetic,  and  a  manner  so  tender,  that 
Daisy  laughed  and  blushed  and  turned  to  the 
piano. 

"Not  half  enough  to  keep  me  up  to  my  prac- 
tice," she  said,  placing  her  music  on  the  rack. 

He  sat  on  her  left  and  leaned  against  the  piano. 
Sometimes  he  touched  her  as  he  bent  forward,  and 
felt  a  blissful  sense  of  being  near  her.  Ah  !  if 
he  only  dared  to  speak  the  words  that  hovered 


IF  HE  ONLY  DARED  133 

on  his  lips.  She  was  so  kind  last  night !  If  only 
he  dared ! 

"  Miss  Daisy,"  he  said  once  abruptly. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  She  turned  her  beautiful  throat 
and  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him.  All  power  of  speech 
was  gone  again. 

"  Only  —  only  —  was  that  chord  quite  right  ? 
Play  it  again,  please." 

"  This  one  ?  "  and  she  repeated  it. 

"  Yes  —  perhaps  —  yes,  I  think  it  was,"  he 
blundered,  and  knit  his  brows  and  smothered  his 
resolve,  and  was  intensely  miserable. 

"  I'm  awfully  stupid,"  she  said,  toiling  through 
the  next  two  bars,  then  coming  to  a  sudden  stop. 
He  looked  over  her  shoulder. 

"Fortunately  my  right  hand  is  free  from  in- 
firmity," he  said,  laughing,  and  leaned  a  little 
across  to  show  her  how  it  should  be  played,  touch- 
ing her  dress  and  her  arm. 

She  was  grateful.  He  turned  away  still  with 
the  thrill  of  her  touch  upon  him.  Why  should 
he  not  dare  to  speak  ?  He  was  her  equal,  a  man 
of  fair  expectations.  His  father  was  a  rich  man, 
his  own  income  a  good  one.  This  girl  whom 
he  had  loved  from  the  first  moment  he  had  set 
eyes  on  her  was  near  his  own  age.  She,  too,  was 
a  musical  enthusiast.  She  had  no  fortune ;  her 
brother  cared  for  her,  and  he  had  nothing  but  his 
salary.  Why  should  he  not  speak  ? 


134  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

The  moments  were  flying ;  the  opportunity,  so 
golden,  might  not  occur  again.  Daisy  had  never 
seemed  more  gentle,  more  sympathetic.  How 
could  he  know  that  the  memory  of  certain  words 
spoken  to  her,  with  leaping  pulses,  and  an  utter 
forgetfulness  of  the  fitness  of  things,  curved  her 
lips  with  smiles,  gave  her  that  happy  abandon  of 
manner  that  made  her  so  irresistible  ? 

" /  would  teach  you  to  love  me" 

The  little  sentence  was  burned  into  her  soul, 
and  seemed  destined  to  determine  her  future. 
Even  now  she  was  thinking  of  it  with  shining 
eyes. 

"  Miss  Daisy,  may  I  speak  to  you  ?  " 


A  PLEA  FOR  HOPE  135 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  DECLAEATION   OF   LOVE. 

THE  tone,  the  look  of  the  man  as  he  asked  this 
question,  startled  her.  She  turned  her  flower-like 
face  towards  him,  a  vague,  faint  surprise  in  the 
soft  glance.  So  intently  had  she  been  thinking 
that  she  had  almost  forgotten  his  presence,  so  she 
was  startled  at  the  expression  in  his  eyes,  the 
anxious  brows,  the  concentrated  passion  that  seemed 
to  possess  him  so  powerfully  that  it  shone  in  every 
line  of  his  face. 

"  Certainly,"  she  said,  in  a  low,  musical  voice. 
He  was  watching  her  with  a  strange  eagerness,  all 
but  forgetting  that  he  had  spoken. 

"  Miss  Daisy,  may  I  tell  you  ?  Oh !  I  cannot 
use  words  in  an  acceptable  fashion.  I  love  you. 
Miss  Daisy —  don't  move  —  don't  go !  "  he  added  in 
an  agony  of  doubt  and  desire.  "  I  couldn't  help 
it !  If  I  had  died  for  it,  I  couldn't  help  it !  I  have 
wanted  to  say  this  —  you  do  not  answer.  Give  me 
a  little  hope  !  " 

Unconsciously  he  had  clasped  his    hands,  and 


136  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

now  he  sat  before  her  in  the  attitude  of  supplica- 
tion. He  looked  so  handsome  that  Daisy,  all  in  a 
tremor  of  agitation,  wondered  why  she  could  not 
answer  to  his  love  ;  but  her  heart  was  cold.  Not 
a  pulse  beat  quicker :  she  was  trembling,  but  it 
was  with  wonder  and  sorrow. 

"  O  Mr.  Severn  ! "  was  all  she  said,  with  a  little 
movement  of  withdrawal.  He  saw  that,  and  with 
all  his  anguish,  he  tried  to  smile. 

"  You  are  not  afraid  of  me,  are  you  ?  "  he  asked, 
letting  his  voice  fall,  and  giving  a  long-drawn  sigh. 

"  Afraid  of  you  ?  No,  indeed,  Mr.  Severn ! 
But,  oh !  I  am  so  sorry !  I  like  you  so  much  — 
as  my  teacher  —  as  my  friend  —  but  not  in  that 
other  way." 

"  Perhaps  you  do  riot  know,"  he  said,  grasping 
the  back  of  her  chair ;  "  perhaps  you  do  not  com- 
prehend your  own  emotions.  O  Miss  Daisy !  I 
have  hoped  you  more  than  liked  me.  I  might 
speak  of  my  prospects.  I  am  an  only  son  :  my  in- 
come is  assured.  I  have  only  to  say  the  word, 
and  secure  a  life-long  position  of  great  prominence. 
But  I  have  not  cared  to  think  of  that  till  —  till  I 
knew  how  you  felt." 

He  rose,  walked  a  little  apart,  as  Daisy,  con- 
fused and  distressed,  turned  the  music-sheets 
before  her.  Then  he  came  back  and  stood  leaning 
an  elbow  on  the  piano. 


I  KNOW  A  GKEEN  HILL  137 

"  Tell  me  only  that  I  may  hope  a  little ;  that 
perhaps  you  can  learn  to  love  me ;  and  I  will  wait, 
oh !  so  patiently !  I  have  loved  you  so  long ! 
ever  since  that  first  Sunday  —  oh !  how  well  I 
remember  it !  The  offertory  —  the  song,  '  I  Know 
a  Green  Hill  Far  Away.' "  He  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands,  his  voice  broke,  and  it  was  pitiful 
to  see  him  struggle  for  utterance.  How  true  a 
heart  it  was !  How  honest !  How  loving  !  Daisy 
saw  it  all,  felt  it  all,  and  could  have  wept  for  him. 
"  There  !  I  won't  give  way  again.  But  if  you 
knew  what  the  disappointment  is  to  me !  It  means 
exile  from  all  I  hold  dear,  for  I  could  not  stay, 
with,  —  near  you,  and  feel  that  your  sweet  eyes 
would  never  smile  in  mine  as  I  would  have  them. 
Yes  —  but  I  can  wait  —  years,  if  need  be  —  only 
tell  me  to  hope  —  a  little." 

"  Mr.  Severn,  I  cannot."  Her  voice  faltered, 
but  she  was  firm.  "  I  never,  never  can,"  she 
added  solemnly.  "  Oh !  I  wish  —  I  wish  you  had 
not  come  just  this  morning,"  she  half  sobbed.  It 
was  her  first  experience  of  the  kind,  and  she  did 
not  know  how  to  meet  it.  She  even  wished  she 
could  love  him  ;  but,  no,  that  was  impossible. 

"  It  would  have  happened  sometime,"  he  said 
after  a  long  pause,  during  which  Daisy  kept  her 
tear-filled  eyes  away  from  him.  "I  must  have 
spoken.  I  did  speak  to  your  brother,  once,  and  he 


138  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

did  not  discourage  me.  '  If  you  can  win  her,'  he 
said,  '  I  have  no  objection.'  That  gave  me  heart 
and  hope,  and  I  thought  —  I  was  foolish  enough 
to  think  —  I  was  not  disagreeable  to  you.  Miss 
Daisy,  look  in  your  heart.  Can't  you  give  me  a 
little  hope  ?  Say  that  I  go  now,  and  let  all 
be  between  us  as  if  I  had  never  spoken  !  Think 
a  moment.  Might  I  not  have  another  trial  ?  Just 
one  more  ?  I  will  be  silent  as  long  as  you  say.  I 
will  be  discreet,  distant  even,  if  you  will  only  say 
that  perhaps  I  may  win  a  little  of  your  regard. 
You  don't  know  how  patient  I  can  be." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Mr.  Severn.  I  know  how  patient 
you  have  been  with  me,  how  beautifully  kind  and 
patient.  And  my  regard  you  have  always  had.  I 
appreciate  your  worth ;  I  like  you,  but  only,"  her 
voice  was  like  a  sob,  "only  as  a  dear  friend. 
Nothing  more,  now  nor  ever." 

"  Nothing  more."  He  repeated  the  words  hope- 
lessly. Then  he  turned  to  the  open  portfolio  and 
began  lifting  the  music,  sheet  after  sheet,  as  if 
in  search  of  something. 

"  There  is  a  song,"  he  said  presently,  entitled 
'  No  More,  No  More  : '  is  it  here  ?  Do  you  know 
it?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  it  once  in  this  room,"  he  went 
on,  his  voice  grown  hoarse  and  cold.  "If  you 


A  DIVINE  PITY  139 

have  never  seen  it,  I  hope  you  never  may,  for  it  is 
written  as  with  the  heart's  blood  and  the  pen  of 
despair.  Then  this  is  the  last  of  all  my  pleasant 
hopes  —  the  last  —  the  last  —  of  earth  for  me." 

"O  Mr.  Severn,  don't  say  that!  "  cried  Daisy, 
all  of  a  tremor. 

"  I  don't  mean  that  I  shall  hurt  myself,  or  even 
die  for  love,"  he  said  drearily.  "  I  only  mean  that 
every  hope  seems  dead  within  me.  Why  did  I 
dare  allow  myself  to  love  you  so  ?  I  don't  know. 
It  was  a  madness,  but  such  a  heavenly  madness ! 
For  the  last  time,  Miss  Daisy,  is  there  no  chance 
for  me,  though  I  wait  and  wait  ?  " 

Daisy  shook  her  head.  Her  voice  was  choked 
with  tears,  she  pitied  him  so.  He  looked  so  hand- 
some in  his  despair.  He  was  young,  ardent, 
enthusiastic,  liked  what  she  liked ;  and  yet  that 
other  face,  grave,  dark,  with  the  bewildering  eyes 
and  the  inscrutable  expression,  stood  between 
them. 

"  I  love  but  him,"  her  heart  cried  passionately. 
"  I  love  him  even  as  this  man  loves  me." 

This  conviction  woke  in  her  heart  a  divine  pity. 

"  Well,"  the  word  was  like  a  death-knell.  He 
rose  mechanically,  put  back  the  music,  turned  once 
and  looked  at  her.  Then  his  heart  seemed  to  smite 
him. 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  distress  you,"  he  said  com- 


140  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

passionately,  "though  God  knows  my  heart  is 
heavy  enough.  But  I  can  bear  it,  that  is  —  I  will 
bear  it  as  a  man  should.  And  for  you  I  shall  ever 
have  the  deepest  respect.  If  it  were  only  mine  to 
smooth  your  path  and  guide  you  through  life  ! 
But  it  is  not  to  be ;  you  have  assured  me  so,  and  I 
know  you  are  the  soul  of  truth.  Perhaps  some 
one  more  favored  than  I  has  won  your  affections. 
If  so,  God  bless  and  prosper  him,"  his  voice  faltered 
a  little,  "for  your  sake." 

He  was  gone ;  and  Daisy  ran  up  to  her  room, 
threw  herself  on  the  bed,  and  sobbed  and  sobbed. 
If  she  had  but  been  prepared  for  this  ordeal  —  but 
it  had  taken  her  entirely  by  surprise. 

Her  sister-in-law  heard  her,  and  came  hurrying 
into  the  room. 

"What  is  it,  dear?  "  she  cried,  grown  pale  with 
fear. 

"  O  Mary,  did  you  have  to  go  through  all  this  ?  " 
was  the  sobbing  question. 

"  What  in  mercy  do  you  mean  ?  "  Mary  asked. 
'"  Why,  you  look  like  —  I  don't  know  what  you 
look  like.  Your  hair  is  tumbled  all  over  your 
head,  and  your  cheeks  are  like  fire.  What  has 
happened?  Wait,  let  me  bathe  your  face  with  a 
little  cologne,  then  you  shall  tell  me  all  about  it. 
There,  there ; "  and  she  patted  her  cheeks,  and 
dabbed  her  forehead  with  a  wet  handkerchief. 


MOST  WOMEN   WOULD   LAUGH  141 

cautioning  her  to  shut  her  eyes,  until  presently 
Daisy  sat  up  and  her  sobs  ceased. 

"  Now  you  can  tell  me  all  about  it.  What  has 
happened  to  disturb  you  so  ?  " 

"  I  think  it's  perfectly  awful,"  said  Daisy,  chok- 
ing again,  "  perfectly  awful !  " 

"Will  you  please  enlighten  me?  What  is  it 
that  is  so  awful  ?  Is  the  kitten  dead  ?  " 

"  O  Mary ! "  and  Daisy  flashed  a  reproving 
glance  at  her  sister-in-law.  "  No ;  but  to  have  some 
one  love  you,  and  you  don't  love  him  a  b-bit.  I 
suppose  all  women  have  to  bear  it,  but  it  certainly 
is  dreadful !  " 

"  What !  have  you  had  an  offer?"  asked  Mary. 

"  Yes,"  and  Daisy's  lip  trembled. 

Mary  sat  down,  laughing. 

"  You  precious,  idiotic  child  I  "  she  exclaimed. 
"  And  to  think  you  are  crying  over  it.  Most 
women  would  laugh." 

"  Then  most  women  are  cruel,  heartless  things," 
said  Daisy  with  unwonted  animation.  "  Then 
they  are  not  real  women.  Why,  I  wouldn't  go 
through  with  it  again  for  worlds.  Oh  !  "  and  she 
shuddered,  "to  think  of  any  one  loving  you  so 
dearly,  and  you  can't  return  it  the  least  little  bit. 
O  Mary  !  what  did  you  do,  —  laugh  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  I  did.  I  never  had  but  one 
offer,  and  that  I  said  '  Yes '  to.  I've  never  been 


142         IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

sorry,  either.  But  you  poor,  tender-hearted  little 
goose  !  who  proposed  to  you  ?  Mr.  Temple  ?  " 

Daisy  gave  a  faint  cry,  and  up  went  both  hands 
to  her  face ;  but  they  could  not  hide  the  rosy  flush 
that  spread  all  in  a  moment  over  cheeks,  forehead, 
and  throat.  Mary  was  startled. 

"  Was  it  Mr.  Temple  ?  "  she  asked  more  seriously. 

"  How  could  you  imagine  such  a  thing  ?  "  Daisy 
cried  in  well-simulated  indignation.  "  No,  indeed. 
I  haven't  seen  Mr.  Temple  this  morning." 

"  I'm  glad  it  wasn't  he,"  said  Mary  quietly. 
"  He's  a  deal  too  old  for  you  ;  and,  besides,  I'm 
afraid  of  his  views.  I  want  you  to  marry  a  man 
of  settled  religious  convictions.  Well,  if  it  was 
not  Mr.  Temple,  there  is  only  one  other  I  can 
think  of,  Professor  Severn  —  or,  perhaps,  Doctor 
Lamprey.  He's  nice,  if  he  wasn't  so  old  and  fat" 

Daisy  broke  into  a  laugh,  the  tears  still  standing 
on  her  lashes. 

"  Doctor  Lamprey  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  How 
comical  he  wonld  look  with  his  hand  on  his  heart 
—  that  is,  if  he  could  get  it  there.  No,  Mary,  you 
were  right  before,  it  was  poor  Rush  Severn.  And, 
oh  !  he  is  so  handsome  !  " 

"  Daisy  Prince !  you  didn't  say  no,  to  him ! 
He  is  young,  good,  and  gifted ! " 

"  But  I  did,"  said  Daisy,  with  a  pitiful  look. 

"  You  don't  know  your  own  mind,  child.     How 


NEVER  !  NEVER  !  NEVER  !        143 

nice  it  would  be  to  be  settled  right  here,  near  us. 
I  do  hope  he  asked  for  time,  and  you  gave  it  to 
him." 

"  I  told  him  no,  never !  never !  never  !  "  and 
she  gave  additional  emphasis  to  each  repetition. 

"  Why,  Daisy,  is  it  possible  that  you  don't  like 
him?  "  her  sister-in-law  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  and  that's  the  trouble.     I  only  like  him." 

"  You'll  be  sure  to  be  sorry.  There  are  not  two 
Rush  Severns  in  one  town,  or  twenty  towns  like 
this.  Oh,  dear !  how  could  you  refuse  him  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  did ;  and  it  almost  killed  me,  he  took 
it  so  sweetly,"  said  unphilosophical  Daisy,  almost 
crying  again.  "He  didn't  scold,  nor  tear  his  hair, 
nor  say  that  he  never,  never  should  love  another, 
as  they  do  in  novels,  but  I  could  see  how  he 
suffered.  Now,  I'm  not  going  to  allow  myself  to 
speak  to  another  living  man.  I  couldn't  go 
through  such  a  scene  again." 

"  Another  living  man  may  not  want  you,"  said 
Mary. 

"  Well,  I'm  sure  I  hope  so,"  Daisy  made  reply 
heartily.  "  I  don't  want  anybody,  goodness  knows," 
and  she  nearly  broke  down  again. 

"  I  suppose  I  have  a  right  to  my  private  opinion," 
said  Mary.  "  If  you  go  on  in  this  fashion,  I  shall 
have  to  believe  that  you  love  Rush  Severn,  after 
all,  and  you  don't  know  it." 


144  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  But  I  do  know  it,"  Daisy  averred  with  spirit, 
wiping  her  eyes,  getting  up  and  going  to  the  glass 
where  she  stood  irresolutely;  "that  is,  I  know  I 
don't." 

"  If  I  may  venture  to  advise  you,  hadn't  you 
better  fix  up  your  hair,  bathe  your  eyes,  and  go  out 
for  a  walk  this  lovely  morning  ?  "  said  her  sister- 
in-law. 

"  Yes ;  and  perhaps  meet  him." 

"  Which  him  ?  "  asked  Mary  demurely. 

Daisy  flushed,  and  shook  her  hair  down  to 
hide  it. 

"  I  don't  want  to  see  any  of  them,"  she  said 
petulantly.  "  I  wish  there  was  a  place  where 
women  could  just  live  together  by  themselves,  and 
be  happy." 

"  As  if  they  could  !  "  said  Mary.  "  But  then 
you  can  take  your  choice,  and  get  you  to  a  nunnery 
or  a  sisterhood." 

"Would  you  advise  me  to  do  either?" 

"  Well,  yes,"  Mary  answered  thoughtfully,  "  if  I 
saw  it  was  your  vocation.  But  I  fear  even  there, 
there  would  be  some  him  to  trouble  the  sweet 
tranquillity  of  your  life.  They  certainly  are  a 
dreadfully  disturbing  element  in  one's  experience." 


ALWAYS  DOING  OR  SAYING  145 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A  LEAP  FOR   LIFE. 

THE  day  was  warm,  with  a  slightly  cool  wind 
blowing. 

"  I  won't  have  you  mooning  round  here,"  Mary 
said,  as  Daisy  sank  listlessly  into  the  first  chair, 
after  she  had  re-arranged  her  hair.  "  It  is  so 
delightful  out  doors.  Go  walk,  and  forget  your 
trouble.  Take  Zue  with  you  if  you  want  com- 
pany." 

"  I  don't  want  company,"  Daisy  said,  "  particu- 
larly Zue." 

"  Why,  what  has  the  child  done  now  ? "  Mary 
asked,  her  pretty  eyebrows  lifted  a  little. 

"  She  is  always  doing,  lately,"  said  Daisy, 
slowly  taking  a  dress  from  the  closet,  and  as 
slowly  putting  it  on,  "  doing  or  saying.  It  don't 
matter  what  she  fancies,  or  what  she  hears,  she 
comes  to  me  with  it  all.  I  begin  to  be  afraid  of 
her.  I  am  a  little  afraid  of  Margy.  Don't  you 
see  that  Margy  is  strange,  sometimes  ?  " 

"I  will  admit  that  Margy  does  seem  altered  of 


146  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

late,"  Mary  responded.  "  I  hope  she  is  not  getting 
tired  of  us.  I  have  come  to  depend  so  wholly 
upon  her  that  I  should  feel  lost  without  her." 

"  I  rather  think  I  could  bear  it,"  said  Daisy,  who 
was  scrutinizing  a  fold  of  her  frock.  "Mary, 
does  this  look  very  shabby?  I  shall  be  so  glad 
when  I  can  give  music-lessons,  and  buy  me  a  new 
gown  now  and  then." 

"If  Rush  Severn  goes  away,  you  might  get 
some  of  his  pupils,"  said  Mary.  "  But  we  shall 
never  get  such  another  organist." 

Daisy  did  not  answer.  She  stood  thinking,  as 
she  gave  those  last,  nameless  little  touches  by 
which  women  add  grace  and  color  and  tone  to  the 
most  simple  toilet. 

"  If  Rush  Severn  goes,"  Mary  had  said.  Why, 
of  course  he  would.  How  she  should  miss  him, 
after  all !  There  would  be  a  stranger  at  the 
organ,  a  stranger  to  direct  the  singing,  perhaps. 
And  she  had  always  liked  Rush  Severn  so  well, 
before  she  had  seen  Andrew  Temple  ;  had  come  in 
some  way  to  consider  him  her  special  property. 
It  would  be  sure  to  get  out  that  she  had  refused 
him,  —  such  news  always  did,  —  and  the  girls  would 
be  cross  and  spiteful  towards  her.  She  wished, 
vaguely,  that  she  could  go  away  herself.  There 
was  a  standing  invitation  for  her  to  visit  Wash- 
ington. Her  Uncle  Herbert,  her  dead  mother's 


OUT  IN  THE  SUNSHINE  147 

brother,  had  been  a  banker  there  for  nearly  twenty 
years,  and  was  supposed  to  be  a  millionnaire.  Her 
cousin  Eleanor,  every  time  she  wrote,  repeated 
her  wish  that  Daisy  would  come  and  be  intro- 
duced to  Washington  society.  But  Daisy,  beauti- 
ful, sweet,  and  clever  as  she  was,  well  adapted  to 
shine  in  any  sphere,  was  only  the  sister  of  a 
country  minister,  with  barely  sufficient  salary  to 
care  for  his  family.  Daisy  could  not  go  to  Wash- 
ington without  a  full  and  fitting  wardrobe.  But, 
oh,  how  often  she  wished  it  were  possible ! 

Thinking  of  these  things,  she  stepped  out  into  the 
sunshine,  longing  for  nothing  so  much  as  solitude. 
She  took  the  road  that  led  to  an  old  mill,  long  ago 
condemned,  and  said  to  be  haunted.  As  she  came 
in  sight  of  the  blackened  walls,  and  saw  the  great 
wheel  on  which  overrunning  vines  had  twisted 
themselves  picturesquely,  while  the  pretty  river, 
with  its  fall  of  greenish-white  water,  ran  tinkling 
musically  by,  she  drew  a  sigh  of  relief.  Here  no 
one  would  disturb  her,  —  no  men,  at  all  events. 

The  crest  of  a  small  ridge  gained,  she  sat  down 
upon  a  mossy  stone,  and  abandoned  herself  to 
thought.  How  still  it  was  !  The  sun  struck  out 
such  lovely  colors  from  the  hillside !  Fleeey, 
dainty  bits  of  cloud  flecked  the  blue  of  an  autumn 
sky.  Beyond  was  the  town  with  its  houses,  its 
stores,  ito  steeples,  and  all  the  suggestions  of  active 


148  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

life.  Here  all  was  wild,  quiet,  and  peaceful.  The 
sound  of  the  water  soothed  her  like  the  tones  of 
soft  music  to  which  distance  lends  an  indefinable 
charm.  The  wind,  which  had  grown  warmer, 
blew  the  light  curls  from  her  temples.  She  was 
glad  she  had  come,  and  by  herself.  Zue's  chatter 
would  have  made  things  out  of  harmony.  Shut 
in  this  solitude,  she  quietly  regarded  the  sky,  the 
fields,  and  the  old  mill,  when  suddenly  she  sprang 
to  her  feet,  uttering  a  low  cry.  She  had  discerned 
the  figure  of  a  man  inside  one  of  the  windows  on 
the  second  floor  of  that  ruinous  edifice,  and  at 
once  divined  who  it  was.  No  resident  of  the  place 
would  dare  place  a  foot  beyond  the  doorway  of 
the  old  mill. 

"  O  Mr.  Temple !  "  she  cried,  "  you  don't  know ! 
It  is  unsafe.  It  may  fall  any  minute." 

Her  hands  extended  outwards  were  tightly 
clasped,  and  her  face  was  white  as  death,  such  a 
horror  had  fallen  upon  her. 

"I  find  the  beams  pretty  solid,"  he  responded 
cheerfull}7-,  and  came  full  in  the  window. 

"  O  Mr.  Temple,  for  Heaven's  sake  come  out !  " 
she  called,  shuddering  from  head  to  foot. 

"  I  will,  certainly,  if  you  think  there  is  danger," 
he  said,  but  he  was  too  late.  The  walls  tottered  ; 
here  and  there  hideous  seams  began  to  show.  At 
once  all  the  front  of  the  old  building,  all  the 


IN  MID-AIR  149 

bricks  of  the  shattered  fabric,  gave  way.  There 
was  a  cloud  of  dust,  a  hollow  thud,  and  down 
went  the  whole  of  the  side  wall,  choking  up  the 
narrow  stream  below. 

Daisy  in  indescribable  terror  saw  so  much,  then 
crouched  to  the  ground,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
hands,  while  a  convulsive  shudder  ran  through 
her  frame. 

"  Don't  be  frightened !  I  am  safe  !  "  she  heard 
him  cry,  and  lifted  her  shuddering  face.  Yes, 
there  he  stood  in  mid-air  on  the  strong  beam  that 
had  not  given  way  ;  but,  merciful  Heaven !  there 
was  nothing  for  him  to  hold  to.  The  water  below 
was  choked  up  with  timber  and  stone,  from  which 
the  dust  was  still  rising  like  thick  yellow  smoke. 
He  stood  there  perfectly  motionless,  looking  down 
twenty  feet  or  more  into  the  chasm  choked  with 
debris,  his  tall  figure  splendidly  outlined  against 
the  opposite  wall  and  the  light  that  came  in  its 
one  narrow  window. 

"  Oh  !  what  shall  I  do  ?  "  moaned  Daisy,  in  an 
agony  of  terror.  "Wait!  I  will  run  and  find 
help,"  she  cried. 

"  No,  stay  where  you  are,"  he  said,  lifting  his 
voice  a  little.  "  I  can't  stand  unsupported  much 
longer,  and  the  other  walls  are  tottering.  I  must 
take  my  chances  and  clear  this  space." 

He  lifted  his  arms,  and  seemed  to  sway  back- 
ward, then  forward. 


150  IF  SHE   WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  No !  no !  "  cried  Daisy.  "  It  will  be  sure 
death."  Then  she  turned  away  with  a  scream  of 
horror,  crouching  close  to  the  ground,  her  heart 
beating  wildly,  her  very  soul  agonizing  for  his  life. 

"  It  was  not  possible,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  He 
could  not  jump  that  terrible  distance."  In  imagi- 
nation she  saw  his  body  torn  and  mangled  amidst 
the  heaps  of  stones  in  the  choked-up  river. 

The  man,  however,  had  measured  the  distance 
with  a  practised  eye.  If  he  swung  clear  of  the 
ruins  belo\y,  it  would  be  a  leap  for  life  which  few 
but  practised  gymnasts  would  have  dared.  But 
this  was  his  only  chance.  The  beam  on  which  he 
stood  was  insecure.  His  position,  with  only  foot- 
hold, nothing  above  or  beneath  him  by  which  he 
could  assist  himself,  made  his  brain  dizzy ;  and 
unless  he  leaped,  he  would  surely  fall.  Gathering 
up  his  energies  for  the  emergency,  he  drew  one 
long  breath,  lifted  his  arms,  and  took  the  leap,  his 
tall  figure  flying,  as  it  seemed,  through  space. 

"  I  thought  I  could  do  it !  Why,  Miss  Daisy  ! 
Dear  child,  how  frightened  you  are  !  Did  I  startle 
you  so  much  ?  " 

Never  before  had  a  voice  sounded  so  divinely 
sweet  in  Daisy's  ears.  Not  merely  the  words,  but 
the  intonation,  were  full  of  meaning.  The  girl 
lifted  her  face  by  degrees,  sobbing  and  laughing 
together. 


THAT  OR  DEATH  151 

"  How  did  you  do  it  ?  "  she  asked  hysterically, 
as  he  helped  her  up  from  her  crouching  posture, 
and  led  her  to  the  seat  she  had  before  occupied. 

"  It  was  that  or  death,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice ; 
"  and  I  used  to  be  skilful  as  a  gymnast,  though  I 
have  not  practised  for  years.  I  came  down  just  a 
trifle  this  side  of  danger,  cat-fashion,  too,  on  all- 
fours.  My  wrists  are  a  little  strained,  but  other 
ways  I  believe  I  am  all  right,"  he  added  cheer- 
fully. 

"  Did  you  never  hear,"  asked  Daisy,  in  a  trem- 
bling voice,  "  that  the  mill  has  been  condemned  ?  " 

"  Never,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  in  there  three 
or  four  times,  but  I  never  dreamed  of  danger. 
There's  a  grand  view  from  that  west  window  —  or, 
rather,  was.  I  should  like  to  own  the  site.  It  was 
rather  a  risky  jump,  come  to  look  at  it,"  he  added, 
turning  his  pale,  grand  face  towards  her.  "  But  I 
had  no  alternative  —  and,  luckily,  but  little  time 
to  think.  However,  it's  all  over.  I  believe  I  will 
rest  awhile,"  he  continued,  seating  himself  on  a 
tree-stump.  "  I  held  my  footing  almost  by  a 
miracle,  it  seemed.  I  shall  never  forget  the  shock 
of  finding  myself  left.  It  was  a  struggle  face 
to  face  with  death,  though,  thank  God,  a  brief 
one." 


152        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A  MORE   FORTUNATE   WOOER. 

HE  placed  his  hat  on  the  grass,  and  acknowl- 
edged to  himself  the  conflict  just  passed  through 
had  unnerved  him.  Yet  he  was  not  sorry  that 
Daisy  had  witnessed  his  leap  for  life.  She  could 
never  think  of  him  as  acting  a  cowardly  part,  — 
succumbing  to  circumstances.  He  had  not  yet 
forgiven  himself  for  the  words  he  had  so  impul- 
sively spoken  the  evening  before.  He  was  not 
usually  given  to  impulse  or  enthusiasms.  All  his 
life  had  been  ordered  by  the  wisest  rules  and  the 
sagest  aphorisms.  Had  she  forgotten  ?  Again  and 
again  he  had  asked  himself  how  he  had  dared  to 
speak  in  that  way  to  this  innocent  girl,  who 
seemed  a  child  beside  him.  That  very  morning  he 
had  been  on  his  way  to  the  rectory,  when  he  saw 
Rush  Severn  stalking  along  ahead  of  him,  saw  him 
enter  the  house. 

"  Always,  I  encounter  him,"  he  had  said  as  he 
turned  away.  "  What  does  it  mean,  unless  it  be 
that  he  loves  her  and  she  loves  him  ?  I  will  accept 
the  omen  —  and  go  my  way." 


I  WILL  BE  PRUDENT  153 

He  had  not  thought  to  see  her  again.  Her  cry 
of  terror  at  sight  of  his  danger  had  sent  the  blood 
leaping  through  all  his  veins,  when  he  stood  at 
the  old  mill-window. 

"But  so  she  might  warn  any  other  friend,"  he 
thought,  as  the  intoxication  of  his  fancy  wore  off. 
"  I  will  be  prudent." 

And  so  he  strove  to  be,  —  tried  not  to  look  in 
the  tender  eyes  so  full  of  solicitude  for  him,  made 
light  of  the  accident,  called  her  attention  to  ferns 
that  grew  in  the  road,  a  milk-white  goat  on  a  ledge 
above  them  cropping  the  scant  herbage,  the  scurry- 
ing clouds  pure  and  whitely  luminous  in  the  sun- 
shine, the  far-off  sound  of  children's  voices,  a  red 
cow  chewing  her  cud,  only  a  stone's-throw  away, 
and  all  the  time  his  heart  was  swelling  with  love 
ineffable. 

Daisy  sat  there,  content,  happy,  though  still 
trembling  from  the  effects  of  her  fright.  She  did 
not  care  to  talk,  to  move,  to  go.  It  was  perfect 
bliss  only  to  be  near  him,  and  he  alive,  saved  from  a 
sudden  and  horrible  death  ;  to  remember  with  bated 
breath  and  hot  cheeks  what  he  had  said  to  her,  to 
wonder  if  he  would  say  it  again.  All  her  shyness 
was  gone,  yet  she  did  not  care  to  speak. 

At  last  he  said,  driven  to  it  by  the  very  hunger 
of  his  soul,  — 

"  I  met    your    friend  —  at    least,   I    saw  your 


154  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

music-teacher,  this  morning.  He  was  going  into 
the  rectory." 

"  Yes  :  it  was  lesson-day,"  she  said  simply. 

"  He  seems  to  be  an  exceptional  young  fellow," 
Temple  went  on,  pulling  a  clover-blossom  to 
pieces. 

"  He  is,"  said  Daisy  ;  "  there  is  no  better  young 
man  in  Fairstock."  Unconsciously  she  was  echo- 
ing the  words  of  her  sister-in-law. 

"Undoubtedly  he  is  a  great  favorite,"  Temple 
responded,  throwing  the  denuded  stalk  away. 

"  Most  people  like  him,"  she  said  quietly. 

"  And  you  too  ?  " 

Daisy  looked  up,  then  her  eyes  fell.  Naturally 
she  thought  of  the  scene  between  Rush  Severn 
and  herself  that  had  taken  place  that  morning,  and 
her  cheeks  grew  scarlet. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  like  him,"  she  said,  with  pointed 
emphasis.  "  He  is  a  favorite  at  our  house." 

"  So  I  should  suppose,"  he  answered  musingly. 
"  Your  brother  is  such  a  prodigy  himself,  that  all 
musicians  are  his  friends.  Providence  lias  denied 
me  gifts  of  that  kind,"  he  added,  almost  bitterly ; 
"  or  else  I  have  had  to  work  so  hard  all  my  life 
that  I  have  never  had  time  to  find  out  whether  I 
had  any  special  gift.  I  rather  think  not,  or  it 
would  have  shown  itself  in  spite  of  the  work.  I 
can't  even  whistle." 


GOLDEN  OPPORTUNITIES  155 

She  laughed  at  the  idea,  his  pathetic  voice,  and 
comical  way  of  putting  it. 

"  But  you  surely  love  music  ?  "  she  said. 

"  Love  it !  yes,  passionately.  It  lifts  me  out  of 
myself,  soothes  and  humanizes  me,  after  I  have 
been  doing  battle  for  or  against  this  miserable 
human  nature  that  we  lawyers  see  the  wrong  side 
of  more  than  any  other  professional  men.  Prince 
may  sometimes  catch  a  glimpse  of  its  fiendishness ; 
but  we  have  to  dig  down  among  the  putrefaction, 
and  unearth  depravity  of  all  colors,  till  we  lose 
what  little  faith  in  man  we  ever  had.  After  the 
charnel-house,  music  comes  like  the  air  from 
heaven,  pure  and  purifying.  I  don't  know  any- 
thing at  all  about  classical  music,  but  I  enjoy  it. 
It  scatters  the  cobwebs  from  my  brain  more  quickly 
than  anything  else." 

"  Don't  you  enjoy  opera  ?  I  do,  so  much,"  said 
Daisy  fervently. 

"  But  you  have  so  few  opportunities.  You  hear 
it  so  seldom,"  he  said. 

"  Very  seldom,"  she  made  answer. 

"  You  should  live  in  the  city.  There  you  have 
golden  opportunities." 

"  I  would  if  it  were  not  for  being  alone.  I  could 
earn  my  living  by  my  voice,"  she  said,  "  but  I 
can't  .leave  them  all.  I  had  rather  wait  a  little 
longer,  and  establish  myself  here." 


156  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

"  You  earn  your  living !  a  child  like  you  !  Par- 
don me,  but  you  seem  like  a  child  to  me,  I  am 
getting  an  old  man,  you  see." 

"  Hopelessly  old,"  said  Daisy,  with  mock  pathos. 
"  You  are  sure  to  have  white  hair  soon,  particularly 
after  this  morning's  adventure  :  but  that  will  only 
give  you  a  more  distinguished  appearance.  I  know 
a  young  professor  whose  beard  is  slightly  gray ; 
he  says  it  is  worth  two  thousand  dollars  a  year  to 
him:  so  perhaps  the  grayer  you  get,  the  richer 
you  will  grow." 

He  shook  his  head,  laughing,  and  looking  away 
from  her.  Her  innocent  beauty  bewildered  him. 
It  was  of  the  kind  he  had  so  seldom  seen 
amid  the  surroundings  of  his  life,  —  pure,  exalt- 
ing. He  never  saw  her  that  all  his  nature  did  not 
go  out  in  worship.  Was  it  a  type  of  something 
beyond,  invisible,  spiritual,  perpetually  calling  the 
soul  to  heights  above  those  already  attained  ? 

"  For  her,"  he  had  said  repeatedly,  "  I  would  be- 
come a  devotee.  She  would  lead  me  and  inspire  me. 
She  has  laid  a  spell  upon  me,  as  doubtless  upon 
others."  How  could  he  learn  if  she  were  heart- 
whole?  He  dared  not  risk  the  ordeal  of  losing 
her  by  asking.  Not  yet,  though  the  question  had 
trembled  in  many  forms  on  his  lips.  He  almost 
hoped  she  had  forgotten  the  little  episode  of  the 
night  before,  though  his  heart  told  him  that  a 


NO  ONE  CARES  FOR  ME  157 

woman  never  forgets  such  things.  Well,  he  would 
be  happy  now,  unless  Daisy's  delicacy  took  alarm 
at  the  sight  of  a  distant  figure  plodding  along. 
To  be  sure,  he  was  her  brother's  friend,  but 
then  — 

Daisy  stirred  as  if  the  idea  had  suddenly  been 
imparted  to  her. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  go,"  she  said.  "  I  only 
came  out  for  a  walk." 

"Not  yet,"  he  said  pleadingly.  "There  is  no 
old  mill  to  take  refuge  in,  when  you  are  gone." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Temple,  it  makes  me  shudder 
when  I  think  how  you  took  your  life  in  your 
hands  whenever  you  went  in  there,"  she  said 
earnestly. 

"  And  what  is  my  life  ? "  he  answered  in  a 
low,  passion-filled  voice.  "  A  succession  of  petty 
triumphs  or  defeats,  eating,  drinking,  sleeping. 
What  have  I  to  make  me  fond  of  life  ?  No  one 
cares  for  me  —  in  all  this  wide  world  no  one  cares 
for  or  loves  me." 

"  O  Mr.  Temple  !  " 

Her  sweet  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  her  sweet  lips 
were  quivering.  What  could  he  do  but  what  he 
did  do  ?  —  spring  towards  her,  kneel  at  her  feet, 
pour  out  all  his  heart,  his  secret  love,  his  soul's 
entreaty,  in  such  eloquent  language  that  it  justi- 
fied her  brother's  remark  that  Temple  in  the  pulpit 


158  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

would  have  convicted  and  converted  Lucifer  him- 
self. 

He  had  taken  her  hands  and  she  had  not  resisted. 
He  had  gathered  her  in  his  arms,  but  then  she 
started  up,  looked  round,  and  moved  back. 

"  You  are  right,  dearest,"  he  said,  "  but  I  am  so 
happy  I  had  well-nigh  lost  my  senses  !  But  this  is 
not  a  public  place.  There  is  no  one  round.  The 
sight  of  your  tears,  and  for  me,  made  me  oblivious 
to  everything  but  my  mad  love  for  you.  I  have 
tried  so  hard  to  forget,  but  your  angel  face  came 
up  in  every  dry  and  musty  record.  I  was  angry 
with  myself  for  saying  what  I  did  last  night,  fear- 
ing I  had  offended  you ;  and  now  you  stand  there, 
and  I  here,  this  rock  between  us,  and  all  the 
hunger  of  my  heart  is  gone.  Daisy,  my  Daisy  !  " 

He  held  out  his  hands.  She  came  towards  him, 
her  face  as  radiant  as  his  own. 

"  I  was  going  without  speaking,  for  I  am  called 
away  to  a  distant  city  on  important  business ;  but 
now  I  am  glad  I  have  said  all  that  was  in  my 
heart.  I  should  be  happier  for  it,  even  if  you 
had  not  given  me  the  heavenly  encouragement 
you  have.  And  here  have  I  been  envying  and 
almost  hating  that  poor  boy,  who,  I  am  sure,  loves 
you,  though  not  as  I  do.  No  man,  it  seems  to  me, 
could  love  you  as  I  do.  Think  of  it !  You  are 
the  first  woman  I  ever  saw  for  whom  I  could  will- 


AN  ANNIVERSARY  159 

ingly  die,  if  need  be,  and  I  am  thirty-five  years 
old !  Yes,"  his  face  grew  luminous,  "  and  this  is 
my  birthday.  Great  Heaven !  what  an  anniver- 
sary !  "  He  looked  at  her  with  infinite  yearning, 
as  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"  You  do  not  think  me  too  old  ?  " 

"Not  one  year,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  Were  you 
twenty  years  older,  and  I  felt  towards  you  as  I  do 
now,  you  would  not  seem  old  to  me." 

"  God  bless  you  for  that,  my  darling !  Think  of 
it.  Yesterday  I  was  friendless,  wrecked,  forlorn, 
caring  little  for  the  honor  men  have  thrust  upon 
me.  To-day  I  am  the  happiest  man  in  God's 
universe.  Welcome  now  hard  work,  endurance, 
difficulties,  even  defeat.  Having  you,  I  have  all  I 
crave.  My  life  is  full.  But  I  promise  you  I  shall 
be  an  imperious  lover.  Nothing  less  than  the 
whole  of  that  little  heart  for  me.  You  are  quite 
sure  it  is  mine  ?  " 

"  I  am  quite  sure,"  she  said,  her  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  her  face  a  glory. 

"  Now  we  will  walk  home  together,"  he  said, 
tucking  her  arm  in  his.  "  And  we  will  keep  our 
secret  for  a  little  while.  I  mean  that  only  your 
brother  shall  know  it.  I  have  something  to  say 
to  him.  And  then,  if  the  political  preferment 
which  I  am  led  to  look  for  should  come,  and  I  am 
in  a  position  to  give  my  wife  a  place  in  the  world 


160  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

worthy  of  her  grace  and  beauty,  then,"  he  looked 
down  into  her  blushing  face,  "  that  world  shall 
know  and  see.  But,  darling,  you  are  not  very 
well  acquainted  with  me,"  he  added  in  a  troubled 
voice,  checking  his  footsteps.  "  Suppose  I  were 
to  tell  you  that  there  have  been  some  dark  episodes 
in  my  life,  which  have  clouded  it  and  made  me 
the  reserved,  doubting  individual  I  was  when  I 
first  knew  your  brother  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  they  were  not  of  your  making,"  she 
said  in  a  low  voice. 

"No,  no,"  he  repeated,  with  slow  emphasis.  "  I 
have  been  placed  in  peculiar  circumstances  through 
the  sins  of  others.  Thank  God,  I  have  kept  my- 
self upright ;  but  —  I  will  tell  all  to  your  brother, 
however,  and  to  you  also  in  time.  You  shall  not 
be  bound  by  any  promise.  I  hate  engagement- 
rings,  as  I  hate  love-songs.  But  the  wedding-ring ! 
Ah,  that  is  the  most  beautiful  emblem  in  the 
world !  " 

"  But  why  do  you  dislike  love-songs  ? "  she 
asked.  "  I  have  often  wondered." 

"  Would  I  have  said  the  words  I  have  to  you, 
before  a  gaping  crowd  ?  "  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  I  see,"  she  said,  her  face  kindling.  "  You  are 
right,  and  I  will  never  sing  a  love-song  again." 

"  Only  to  me." 


MAEGY'S  DISAPPEARANCE  161 

He  placed  his  hand  over  hers  with  a  tender 
pressure.  What  magic  was  in  that  touch  !  Every 
pulse  throbbed  in  response.  Was  this  the  same 
atmosphere  into  which  she  had  walked,  dreading 
to  meet  the  face  of  any  one  she  knew?  How 
little  she  had  dreamed  what  was  coming  to  pass 
that  morning !  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  had 
been  re-created  that  golden  day.  Joy  sat  in  her 
heart  like  a  newly  crowned  king.  All  things  were 
new.  Would  it  last,  she  wondered.  And  then  all 
suddenly  came  to  her  inner  vision  the  face  of 
Margy,  intense,  dark,  and  pitiful,  —  Margy,  who 
either  loved  or  hated  this  man.  The  shock  of  the 
vision  made  her  heart  beat  more  rapidly. 

"Why  should  I  care?"  she  thought.  "What 
is  it  to  me,  or  her  ?  " 

They  came  in  sight  of  the  rectory.  Margy,  who 
was  standing  in  the  kitchen-window,  which  looked 
upon  the  entrance-gate,  started  back  and"  away  as 
if  she  had  been  shot. 

"  Why  in  the  world  did  she  do  that  ?  "  thought 
Daisy. 


162        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

WHAT   DAISY  THOUGHT. 

THEY  went  into  the  wide,  sunshine-filled  hall. 
Mary  was  just  coming  down-stairs. 

"Is  the  rector  at  home  ?  "  asked  Temple. 

"  No,"  Mary  said :  "  he  just  sent  word  that  I 
need  not  expect  him  to  dinner.  Somebody  is  sick 
a  long  way  out  of  town,  and  he  should  not  be  back 
till  late." 

"  Then  I  will  call  again,"  said  Temple. 

"  Pray  stay  and  take  dinner  with  two  forlorn 
women,"  Mary  pleaded.  Daisy's  eyes  seconded 
the  invitation,  but  he  resisted  their  coaxing. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  but  indeed,  I  must  go  now. 
I  have  letters  to  write,  and  my  stay  in  Fairstock  is 
short."  So  with  a  glance  —  such  a  glance  —  at 
Daisy,  he  left. 

Mary  followed  her  sister-in-law  up-stairs. 

"See  here,  Daisy," she  said:  "you  went  away 
at  odds  with  all  the  world,  this  morning,  and  a 
face  that  gave  me  the  heart-ache,  it  was  so  sad. 
What  on  earth  has  come  to  }rou  since  ?  You 
looked  perfectly  transfigured  as  you  came  into  the 


ALMOST  A  TRAGEDY  163 

hall  just  now.  I  won't  have  you  such  a  chameleon. 
Do  you  know,  I  was  getting  worried  ?  I  was  actually 
going  to  send  Zue  after  you ;  and  here  you  come, 
radiant." 

If  Daisy  had  followed  her  own  inclination,  she 
would  have  fallen  on  the  neck  of  her  sister-in-law, 
as  Ruth  on  Naomi's,  and  confessed  the  delicious 
secret,  that  she  was  loved  by  the  only  man  she 
cared  for.  But  he  had  pledged  her  to  secrecy 
for  yet  a  little  time,  and  she  nerved  herself  to 
combat  the  inference  that  her  coming  home  with 
Temple  had  evidently  caused. 

"Do  I  look  so  very  bright?"  asked  Daisy, 
putting  her  hat  and  mantle  carefully  away,  and 
going  to  the  glass.  "  I  have  had  a  pleasant  walk  ; 
but  indeed,  instead  of  looking  ruddy,  I  ought  to 
be  as  pale  as  a  ghost." 

She  narrated  the  scene  she  had  witnessed,  and 
which  had  come  so  near  being  a  tragedy.  Mary 
listened  with  breathless  interest  and  many  an 
ejaculation. 

"  What  a  shocking  accident  it  might  have  been  ! " 
she  said.  "  But  I  am  really  glad,  as  long  as  he  is 
safe,  that  the  horrid  old  building  has  fallen  at  last. 
No  one  but  a  stranger  would  have  entered  it." 

"  How  still  it  is  ! "  said  Daisy.     "  Where  are  the 
babies  ?  " 
"Zue  is  taking  them  round  the  square." 


164  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Are  you  sure  she  is  to  be  trusted  ? "  Daisy 
asked,  glad  to  change  the  subject. 

"She  has  taken  them  before,"  said  Mary,  and 
went  into  her  own  room. 

Then  Daisy  sat  down  to  think,  hiding  her  happy 
face  in  her  hands.  The  clock  struck  two.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  only  five  hours  had  elapsed,  'and 
all  her  life  was  changed  ?  It  took  her  breath 
away  as  she  reviewed  the  incidents  of  the  morning. 
She  felt  herself  a  priestess,  hallowed  by  love. 
Every  sense  seemed  to  be  singing  pseans  of  praise. 
A  true  man,  a  man  famous  in  the  world  of  letters, 
of  whom  other  men  spoke  with  admiration,  had 
told  her  of  his  love. 

And  she  had  been  so  near  losing  him ! 

"  But  he  lives,  and  he  belongs  to  me  !  "  she  said 
with  a  smile  of  the  sweetest  satisfaction. 

It  hardly  occurred  to  her  to  think  of  his  lack  of 
religious  belief.  But  suppose  he  did  not  go  by 
bell,  book,  and  candle  ?  Her  brother  had  spoken 
of  him  as  a  Christian  at  heart,  and  he  was  a  good 
reader  of  men.  She  would  let  that  go  for  the 
present.  Her  love  for  him  might  yet  bring  about 
seeming  impossibilities.  It  did  not  trouble  her  at 
all,  —  not  as  much  as  it  should,  she  thought,  more 
than  once. 

Mary  and  Daisy  took  dinner  together.  It  was 
decidedly  lonesome  without  the  genial  face  of  the 
head  of  the  house. 


IN  GLOOMY  MOOD  165 

Mary  had  bolstered  up  the  twins,  to  take  his  place, 
she  laughingly  said  ;  and,  beyond  hammering  with 
their  forks  and  calling  out  their  preferences  in  an 
unknown  tongue,  they  behaved  beautifully.  Daisy 
devoted  herself  to  them,  partly  that  she  need  not 
talk,  partly  to  hide  the  light  in  her  face,  which  she 
felt  would  burst  out  now  and  then  like  a  sun-glow ; 
but  in  caressing  and  admiring  them,  nobody  would 
mind..  Margy  stalked  round  in  a  gloomier  mood 
than  usual;  and  more  than  once  Daisy  felt  the 
woman's  keen  eyes  searching  her  face,  and  was 
provoked  with  herself  that  she  could  not  keep 
control  of  her  countenance  at  these  times. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it's  a  red-letter  day  or 
not,"  said  Mary,  taking  a  spoon  from  one  of  the 
twins,  who  persisted  in  aiming  it  at  aunt  Daisy's 
eyes.  "  There,  there,  my  darling,"  she  continued 
to  the  angel  at  her  side,  "  do  you  want  to  make 
dearest  aunt  Daisy  blind,  so  that  she  can't  see  your 
sweet  little  face  any  more  for  the  rest  of  her  nat- 
ural life  ?  "  and  she  ended  with  a  hug  and  a  kiss. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  a  red-letter  day  ? " 
Daisy  asked,  looking  conscious. 

"Why,  there  are  three  times  as  many  letters 
to-day  as  we  generally  get  in  the  whole  week. 
Only  think!  there  was  one  for  Margy,  the  first 
letter  she  has  ever  received,  to  my  knowledge,  since 
she  has  been  with  us." 


166  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  A  letter  for  Margy ! "  Daisy  exclaimed.  Margy 
had  served  the  dessert  and  gone.  "  I  don't  wonder 
you  thought  it  remarkable.  I  didn't  know  she  had 
anybody.  I  thought  she  was  utterly  alone  in  the 
world." 

"So  did  I,"  said  Mary. 

"  And  when  you  gave  it  to  her,  did  it  surprise 
her  much  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least.  She  took  it  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course,  only  a  bit  of  red  came  into  her 
cheeks,  and  I  fancied  her  eyes  snapped  a  little ;  but 
that  might  have  been  all  fancy,  of  course." 

"  And  the  superscription ;  was  it  a  good  hand  ? 
How  I  wish  I  could  have  seen  it !  "  said  Daisy. 

"  A  superior  hand,  —  a  man's  handwriting,  I 
thought,"  her  sister-in-law  made  reply. 

"  How  I  should  like  to  know  who  it  was  from !  " 
Daisy  said,  with  so  much  fervor  that  Mary  caught 
herself  wondering  why.  "  Was  it  anything  like 
—  I  mean,  did  you  ever  see  the  writing  before  ?  " 

"  Never,"  said  Mary,  laughing.  "  I  can't  ima- 
gine what  makes  you  so  curious  about  it." 

Daisy  breathed  more  freely,  and  made  some 
light  answer.  "  Such  absurd  things  will  come  into 
one's  head ! "  she  thought,  not  even  acknowledg- 
ing to  herself  what  way  her  suspicion  tended,  and 
left  the  table. 


A  GKEAT  JOY  167 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

A  KED-LETTEK,   DAY. 

DAISY  busied  herself  with  her  work,  with  the 
babies,  practised  a  little,  sewed  a  little,  and  all  the 
while  her  heart  was  singing.  Nor  could  she  dis- 
guise her  happiness.  Every  now  and  then  a  light 
flashed  over  her  face,  her  eyes  grew  luminous, 
while  she  hummed  little  snatches  of  her  favorite 
songs.  It  was  all  she  could  do  to  keep  her  rebel- 
lious joy  within  bounds. 

"  Something  has  happened,"  Mary  said  to  her- 
self more  than  once,  as  she  watched  her  in  a  fur- 
tive way.  "  She  is  not  in  this  mood  usually. 
Some  great  joy  has  come  into  her  life."  And  then 
she  fell  to  thinking  of  how  the  two  came  home 
together,  and  of  Temple's  quiet  manner  and  soft- 
ened voice,  of  Daisy's  flushed  cheeks  and  down- 
cast but  sparkling  eyes ;  and  a  quick  wonder, 
coupled  with  a  regret  that  she  could  hardly  account 
for,  flashed  through  her  consciousness. 

"  I'll  talk  to  Arthur  about  it,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, still  thinking  uneasily.  "  It  never  would  do 
in  this  world,  if  I  read  him  aright." 


168  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

Finally  the  dusk  came,  and  the  lamps  were 
lighted. 

Daisy  sat  down  with  some  knitting,  and  the 
pink  shade  of  the  lamp  softened  and  partly  hid 
her  face.  The  two  women  had  chosen  the  study 
to  sit  in,  where  a  bright  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth. 
It  was  a  bonny,  cheerful  interior,  the  brightest  in 
the  house  in  all  seasons,  but  especially  so  on  this 
evening,  Daisy  thought. 

Mary,  with  an  occasional  protest  against  her 
husband's  absence,  sewed  on  some  bit  of  lingerie-, 
now  and  again  scanning  Daisy's  face. 

"  I  wish  either  these  people  lived  nearer  or 
wouldn't  get  sick,"  she  said,  after  a  few  moments 
of  silence.  "  I'm  always  nervous  about  accidents 
at  night,  and  there's  no  moon.  There  !  how  fool- 
ish I  am  to  start  so !  " 

Somebody  had  rung  the  door-bell.  Daisy,  half 
expecting  Temple,  rose  with  smiling  eyes,  when 
Margy  looked  in  to  say  that  Mrs.  St.  Albert  had 
come ;  and  presently  the  little  woman  was  seated 
in  their  midst,  her  wraps  thrown  aside,  her  dimples 
in  full  play,  her  eyes  and  lips  in  vivacious  motion. 
She  generally  spoke  rapidly  and  with  singular 
distinctness.  It  seemed  as  if  vowels  and  conso- 
nants were  always  ranging  themselves  round  her 
lips  ready  to  form  themselves  into  line  at  a 
moment's  notice. 


A  LAME  EXCUSE  169 

"  My  adorable  Hugh  told  me  that  the  dominie, 
so  he  will  call  him,  wouldn't  be  back  till  late 
to-night ;  and  I  left  the  dear  old  infant  at  home  all 
alone  by  himself,  so  you  must  give  me  credit  for 
being  amiable,"  she  said,  her  face  cherubic  in  its 
placidity.  "  I  told  him  that  perhaps  I  should  stay 
all  night ;  biffc  he  severely  answered,  without  look- 
ing up  from  his  paper,  that  he  should  call  for  me 
at  sharp  ten.  I  wanted  him  to  come  with  me,  but 
he  pleaded  business,  letters  to  write,  and  all  that. 
I  suppose  that  you  have  found  out  before  this,  that 
the  plea  of  business  covers  a  multitude  of  sins. 
Even  my  angelic  husband  uses  it  at  times.  It  is  a 
lame  excuse.  He  wants  to  sit  in  his  dressing- 
gown  with  his  feet  on  the  fender.  I  told  him  so ; 
but  he  lent  me  his  deaf  ear,  and  I  was  glad  of  it. 
If  there  is  anything  I  do  despise  in  married  people, 
it  is  the  retort  courteous,  sprinkled  with  'my 
dears.'  You  see,  when  I  talk  into  his  left  ear,  he 
always  smiles,  and  that  keeps  us  both  in  good 
temper.  I'm  not  like  my  poor  old  nurse,  who  used 
to  quote  the  Bible  to  suit  her  own  purpose.  '  De 
good  book  say  smite  on  de  oder  cheek ;  an'  bress 
de  good  Lord,  I  allers  do.'  Instead  of  smiting  the 
other  cheek,  I  say  all  sorts  of  wicked  things  on 
his  deaf  side,  and  if  I  don't  feel  better,  he  does. 
It  don't  harm  him,  and  it  does  me  good." 

All  this  time  she  was   taking  some  lace-work 


170  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

from  a  priin  little  bag,  and  presently  the  three 
women  were  comparing  notes  as  to  the  relative 
patterns. 

"  How  cosey  you  always  do  look  here,"  said  Mrs. 
St.  Albert  admiringly.  "  Nothing  could  be  prettier 
than  the  flicker  of  the  firelight  on  the  back  of  the 
books.  I  declare,  there's  nothing  so  cheerful  as  a 
wood  fire  !  Oh !  by  the  way,  have  you  heard  that 
the  old  mill  fell  down  to-day  ?  " 

Mary  looked  up,  but  Daisy  started  and  flushed. 
Her  astonished  glance  rested  for  a  moment  on  the 
pretty,  placid  face  before  her,  as  if  questioning 
how  much  she  knew. 

"  Yes,"  Mary  said.  "  Daisy  was  there  at  the 
time.  She  had  gone  for  a  walk.  Mr.  Temple  had 
a  narrow  escape." 

"Mr.  Temple!  Oh!  I  didn't  hear  of  that," 
said  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  now  all  attention.  "  Do  you 
know,  whatever  I  hear  about  that  man  interests 
me  at  once  ?  He  may  be  wicked,  but  he  is  delight- 
fully interesting,  just  the  same." 

"How  did  you  hear  about  it?"  asked  Daisy, 
commanding  her  face  and  voice. 

"  My  girl  met  your  girl,  who  told  her  the  news." 

"  Margy  !  "  Mary  exclaimed,  while  a  little  thrill 
ran  through  Daisy's  frame.  "  Oh  !  I  remember, 
she  was  out  this  morning.  I  wonder  why  she 
didn't  tell  me  about  it !  " 


WHAT  HAD  SHE  SEEN  171 

"  Surely  !  "  said  Daisy,  her  fingers  trembling. 
The  next  moment  it  seemed  to  strike  her  that  the 
light  was  too  strong,  and  she  moved  her  chair  a 
little  back. 

"  Then,  she  didn't  speak  of  Mr.  Temple  ?  "  said 
Mary,  after  she  had  narrated  the  story  of  his 
escape. 

"  No  ;  at  least  my  young  lady  did  not  say  so. 
If  his  name  had  been  mentioned,  I  think  she  would 
have  told  me." 

Daisy  was  working  herself  into  a  mental  fever. 
To  admit  that  Margy  saw  the  mill  fall  was  equiva- 
lent to  the  belief  that  the  woman  had  followed 
her  there,  and  had  been  in  hiding  while  Temple 
stood  there,  a  solitary  figure  in  mid-air.  What 
else  had  she  seen  ?  And  why  was  she  there  at 
all?  What  tree  could  have  hidden  her?  Daisy 
reviewed  all  the  circumstances,  and  felt  confident, 
that  unless  the  woman  had  concealed  herself  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mill,  where  there  were  a  few 
rocks  large  enough  for  shelter,  she  should  have 
seen  her,  or  any  other  figure,  however  small.  Then 
there  was  the  fact  that  Margy  was  home  before 
her.  But  what  but  jealousy  could  prompt  her  to 
such  an  action  ?  It  seemed  ridiculous  even  as  the 
thought  occurred  to  her,  and  she  smiled  and  red- 
dened at  it ;  but  still  it  left  a  feeling  of  irritation 
which  she  could  not  shake  off.  Margy  had  all  at 


172  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

once  become  a  factor  in  her  life.  Disguise  it  as 
she  would,  a  singular  dread  of  this  woman  grew 
daily  in  her  mind.  Could  it  be  possible  that  in 
some  trouble  of  her  younger  life  lie  had  been  her 
lawyer?  Perhaps  in  some  way  he  had  forfeited 
her  good  opinion. 

This  was  a  happy  thought.  She  laughed  at 
herself  as  she  sat  listening  to  Mrs.  St.  Albert's 
chatter,  of  her  family  and  acquaintances  in  North 
Carolina,  her  tenants,  her  reminiscences  of  the  old 
plantation.  Her  limitations  of  knowledge  respect- 
ing the  outside  world,  made  her  wonder  again  if 
she  were  not  narrow  in  this  sudden  prejudice 
against  Margy ;  and  she  set  herself  to  work  to 
fight  against  it,  to  stifle  the  judgment  that  might 
after  all  be  unjust.  Was  it  not  rather  ridiculous, 
at  all  events  undignified,  to  couple  this  woman  in 
her  mind  with  a  man  so  unique  among  his  kind,  a 
man  of  such  varied  attainments,  scholarly,  profes- 
sional ?  It  was  unworthy  of  her,  and  unjust  to  him. 

"  My  paragon  of  husbands  is  coming,  I  know 
his  step  ;  "  and  Mrs.  St.  Albert  put  up  her  work. 

"  My  paragon  should  have  been  here  long  ago," 
said  Mary,  her  face  expressing  the  anxiety  she 
could  not  help  feeling,  as  her  visitor  gathered  her 
wraps  together. 

"  I'll  go  up  and  look  at  the  babies,"  she  added, 
as  she  bade  her  visitor  good-night. 


THIS   IS   HOME  173 

"  I  believe  I  will  go  too,"  said  Daisy.  "  I  am 
tired  —  do  you  care  about  my  staying  up?" 

"  Till  Arthur  comes  ?  Oh,  no  !  "  her  sister  said. 
"  Of  course  I  shall  go  down-stairs  again.  You 
look  weary.  I  have  noticed  that  all  the  evening." 

Daisy  meant  to  retire  at  once,  but  Margy  had  so 
laid  siege  to  her  imagination  that  she  must  needs 
sit  down  to  think  about  it  a  little  more  at  her 
leisure.  Then  she  heard  the  carriage  come  to  the 
gate,  heard  her  brother's  voice,  heard  Mary  hurry- 
ing down  to  welcome  him,  and  knew  that  Margy 
had  prepared  a  hot  supper  for  him,  as  she  always 
did  when  he  came  home  late. 

"It's  not  worth  while  to  go  down,"  she  said, 
struggling  with  her  thoughts.  Still  she  sat  there, 
wondering  at  herself  because  she  did  so,  yet 
making  no  effort  to  retire. 

Down-stairs,  the  rector  came  in  with  a  cheery 
smile,  though  he  looked  tired  and  pale. 

"  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  Stoketon,"  he  said, 
"and  was  the  unwilling  witness  of  a  long  and 
painful  death-struggle." 

"  Then  poor  Mr.  Boynton  is  dead,"  Mary  said, 
the  quick  tears  coming  to  her  eyes,  for  she  had 
known  and  loved  him.  "  What  a  sad  house  it 
must  be  !  " 

"  It  is  —  I  don't  care  to  dwell  on  the  recollec- 
tion," he  answered.  "  Ah,  this  is  home !  "  he  added, 


174  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

a  supreme  satisfaction  in  voice  and  manner,  as  he 
sat  down  by  the  fire.  "  It  was  a  chilly  drive,  and 
Boynton  clung  to  me  so  till  the  last,  I  almost 
fancied  he  was  in  the  carriage  beside  me.  How 
good  it  seems  to  be  back  with  you  !  "  and  he  drew 
his  wife  tenderly  towards  him  and  kissed  her. 

Presently  the  folding-doors  swung  open,  and 
Margy  made  her  appearance,  rolling  in  a  little 
table,  set  with  hot  tea,  bread  and  butter,  and  cold 
chicken. 

"  Ah  !  that's  appetizing.  The  very  sight  makes 
me  hungry,"  he  said  with  a  cheerful  smile.  "  How 
good  of  you,  Margy !  Now  you  shall  take  some 
tea,"  he  added,  turning  to  his  wife,  who  held  out 
both  hands  full  of  letters. 

"  You  know  I  never  eat  or  drink  after  early  tea, 
on  principle,"  she  said. 

"  And  you  know  I  never  read  letters  when  there 
is  food  before  me,  on  principle,"  he  laughingly 
replied,  as  he  took  a  piece  of  the  chicken.  "  What 
a  raft  of  letters  !  —  six,  seven,  eight,  and  plenty  of 
begging-letters  among  them,  no  doubt.  I  tell  you 
what  you  shall  do  while  I  eat.  Bring  up  that 
arm-chair  —  or  stop,  I'll  do  that,  then  you  can  be 
useful  and  at  the  same  time  ornamental,  while  you 
open  the  letters." 

Mary  broke  the  envelopes  one  after  the  other, 
peering  into  some,  reading  others,  till  she  came  to 


GOOD  NEWS  FOR  DAISY  175 

the  last  one,  which  was  sealed  with  black,  and 
which  for  a  reason  she  had  withheld,  for  fear  it 
contained  bad  news.  Opening  this  very  slowly, 
she  ran  her  eye  over  the  page. 

"  O  Arthur  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  your  great-aunt 
Priscilla  Luther  is  dead !  " 

"  Aunt  Priscilla ! ''  he  laid  down  his  knife  and 
fork.  "  I  think  she  was  past  ninety.  She  has 
attained  a  ripe  age.  Well,"  at  his  wife's  cry  of 
astonishment,  "  what  follows  ?  " 

"  O  Arthur  !  it  follows  that  she  has  left  all  her 
money  to  Daisy,  and  all  her  silver  to  you !  " 

He  turned  round,  his  appetite  satisfied. 

"  To  Daisy  !  "  he  said,  a  quick  light  irradiating 
his  face.  "Well,  I  am  glad  of  that.  And  how 
much  is  the  all  ?  " 

"  Fifteen  thousand  dollars  in  money,"  said  Mary, 
reading  slowly. 

"  We  ought  to  be  very  thankful,  —  glad  and 
thankful,"  he  said.  "  I  have  always  been  anxious 
as  to  Daisy's  future.  Now  she  is  provided  for. 
Fifteen  thousand  dollars  is  a  large  sum  for  a 
young  girl.  I  must  look  after  it,  or  she  will  be 
for  giving  it  all  away,  she  is  such  a  generous  little 
soul.  Where  is  she  ?  The  news  will  keep  till 
morning  anyway,  but  I'd  like  to  see  how  she  looks 
over  it  to-night." 

Mary  ran  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 


176        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Daisy !  "  she  called. 

The  girl  rose  in  a  hurry,  laughing  to  think  she 
had  not  yet  taken  a  pin  out  of  her  attire. 
"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  answered. 
"  Some  good  news.     Come  down." 


EXPECTATION  177 


CHAPTER  XX. 

HOW   DAISY  RECEIVED   THE  NEWS. 

"  COME  here,  my  pet,"  said  her  brother,  who  was 
comfortably  ensconced  in  the  great  study  easy- 
chair,  looking  the  picture  of  contentment,  the 
firelight  playing  on  his  dressing-gown,  and  red 
and  black  smoking-cap. 

Daisy  went  forward,  wondering.  Something  in 
his  face  made  her  pulses  beat  a  little  faster.  Mary 
stood  by,  regarding  her  with  an  indulgent  smile. 
"  Had  he  seen  Mr.  Temple  ?  "  she  asked  herself. 

"We  have  a  letter  from  the  old  homestead, 
dear,"  her  brother  said,  as  she  sat  down  on  the 
cushioned  side  of  the  big  chair,  and  he  threw  his 
arm  about  her.  "  I  don't  know  as  you  remember 
your  great-aunt  Priscilla." 

"  Oh  !  indeed  I  do,  that  little  withered  old  lady, 
oh,  so  old!  with  the  silver- white  hair,  and  the 
tiny  red  spots  on  her  cheeks.  She  was  so  pretty," 
said  Daisy. 

"  That  is  she  to  a  dot,"  said  the  rector.  "  Well, 
my  dear,  she  is  dead." 


178  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Oh !  poor  great-aunt  Priscilla !  "  said  Daisy, 
her  face  shadowed  at  once. 

"No;  rich  aunt  Priscilla.  After  over  ninety 
years  of  a  happy  life  here,  she  lias  gone  to  join  all 
her  dear  ones  in  a  happier  home.  But,  my  pet,  I 
haven't  told  you  all.  She  has  left  you  fifteen 
thousand  dollars." 

"  Oh !  "  Daisy  lifted  herself  from  the  chair,  her 
eyes  widening,  and  stood  wondering,  struck  dumb 
for  the  moment.  "Why  didn't  she  leave  it  to 
you  ?  "  were  the  first  words  she  spoke,  her  voice 
regretful. 

"  Because  she  knew  that  you  needed  it  most, 
little  girl,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  am  glad  it  came 
to  you  —  but  you  don't  look  glad." 

"  The  boys  —  you  need  it  for  them,"  said  Daisy. 

"  The  boys  will  be  cared  for,  my  dear ;  uncle 
Ronald  has  assured  me  of  that,  if  they  live.  If 
they  don't,  why,  their  inheritance  is  still  more 
sure." 

"  I  ought  to  be  delighted,"  said  Daisy,  "  but  I 
am  so  startled !  Fifteen  thousand  dollars  !  and  all 
mine ! " 

"  Every  cent  of  it,  and  a  snug  little  sum  it  is," 
mused  the  rector.  "  It  will  at  least  keep  you 
from  going  out  into  the  world  to  face  its  frowns 
and  disappointments.  I  think  you  could  live  very 
well  on  the  interest  of  that  money,  Daisy." 


SHE  LOVES  TEMPLE  179 

"  Yes,  but  still  it  seems  as  if  you  ought  to  have 
it,  half  of  it,  at  least." 

"  I  don't  want  half,  no,  nor  a  fourth  of  it,  you 
generous  little  soul.  I  know  you  mean  all  you 
say,  and  you  are  very  good ;  but  you  are  to  have 
every  cent  of  it  yourself.  I  shall  consult  with 
Mr.  Temple  about  the  matter  at  once.  He  will 
know  how  to  invest  it  in  the  safest  way." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  him ! "  Daisy  half-gasped,  and 
then  stood  flushed  and  nervous,  ready  to  bite  her 
tongue  out  for  having  spoken. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  tell  him  ?  "  the  rector  asked 
gravely.  "  He  is  the  best  legal  and  business  man 
I  know,  and  I  must  consult  somebody." 

"  I  meant  —  I  thought  there  were  business  men 
in  the  church,  Mr.  St.  Albert,  for  instance  —  but 
do  as  you  please,"  said  Daisy.  "  Of  course  I 
have  nothing  to  say  in  the  matter." 

"  You  have  everything  to  say,  my  dear,"  was 
the  response.  Mary  had  moved  towards  the  win- 
dow, and  was  pulling  at  the  shades  a  little 
nervously. 

"  There  is  something  between  them,"  she  said  to 
herself,  —  "  and  she  loves  Temple." 

"  However,"  the  rector  was  saying,  "  I  will  take 
counsel  of  my  own  judgment  first,  and  sleep  on 
it.  You  will  be  glad  to  know  that  all  the  silver 
comes  to  me.  There  is  a  great  deal  too.  Mary 


180        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

will,  not  have  to  worry  over  her  small  stock  of 
silver  spoons ;  for,  if  I  remember  right,  there  are 
dozens  and  dozens,  both  large  and  small,  to  say 
nothing  of  a  service  or  two,  an  urn  and  some  old 
tankards.  I  consider  myself  very  well  remem- 
bered ;  so,  pussy,  go  to  bed  and  dream  over  the 
good  news." 

Daisy  threw  both  arms  over  her  brother's  neck, 
and  kissed  him. 

"  What  in  the  world  was  the  child  crying  for  ?  " 
the  rector  asked  of  his  wife.  "  I  felt  her  tears  on 
my  cheek." 

"  Why,  for  joy,  of  course,"  said  the  wary  little 
wife,  and  kept  her  thoughts  to  herself. 

As  for  Daisy,  when  she  gained  her  room  she  sat 
down  and  wiped  the  tears  from  her  lashes.  Mary 
came  up  in  a  few  minutes. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  I'm  crying  for," 
she  murmured,  "  but  what  a  day  it  has  been ! 
And  now  comes  this  strangest  news  of  all.  It  is 
like  a  fairy  story.  I  had  almost  forgotten  poor 
dear  aunt  Priscilla.  It  is  most  ungrateful  to  say 
so,  but  I  had.  But  then,  she  never  came  into  my 
life ;  only  when  I  was  a  little  girl  with  big  eyes 
and  long  curls,  my  mother  used  to  take  me  to  see 
her,  and  I  remember  I  was  very  much  in  awe  of 
her  till  she  gave  me  seed-cakes  on  a  gilt  dish. 
And  once  we  stayed  to  tea,  and  ate  off  a  table  that 


TOO  HAPPY  TO  SLEEP  181 

she  said  had  belonged  to  Marie  Antoinette.  Her 
mother  had  brought  it  to  America.  Everything 
there  looked  ancient.  Who  would  have  thought 
she  would  remember  me  ?  I  do  hope  she  sees  that 
I  am  grateful." 

Then  she  sat  very  still,  trying  to  realize  that 
she  had  money  now  in  her  own  right.  Delightful 
visions,  but  half  defined  as  yet,  came  dancing 
before  her  mind's  eye.  What  she  could  do  for 
the  twins  now !  for  Margy's  little  girl,  over- 
weighted with  that  kind  of  genius  which  is  akin 
to  insanity  in  some  temperaments,  and  which,  if 
not  rightly  guided  by  the  mind  and  hand  of  a 
master,  sends  its  possessor  adrift  on  the  shoals  and 
quicksands  of  ruin. 

"  And  now  I  can  go  to  Washington,  and  buy  me 
all  the  fine  things  I  need.  I  will  never  look 
shabby  again  if  I  can  help  it.  How  like  a  dream 
it  seems ;  but,  oh,  how  beautiful !  " 

And  so  she  mused  till  the  clock  striking  the 
hour  of  midnight  roused  her  from  her  revery. 

"  I  am  too  happy  to  sleep,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow,  and  smiling  eyes 
and  parted  lips  attested  to  the  fact. 

Morning  found  her  as  alert  and  vigorous  as  ever. 
Youth  can  bear  the  sleepless  vigils  of  joy,  and 
Daisy's  cup  was  full  to  the  brim.  She  hoped  to 
see  Temple  that  morning.  At  breakfast  she  was 


182        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

curiously  conscious  of  being  watched  by  a  pair  of 
sombre  brown  eyes,  of  being  waited  on  with  some- 
thing more  of  deference  than  usual  by  Margy,  and 
yet  she  felt  uncomfortable.  There  was  something 
contagious  in  the  gloom  of  the  woman's  face, 
something  that  made  Daisy  uneasy. 

"  Was  Temple  here  yesterday  ? "  the  rector 
asked,  and  then  the  story  of  the  accident  was 
rehearsed  again.  Daisy  felt  the  hot  glow  of  her 
heart  spread  to  her  cheeks,  conscious  of  Margy's 
knowledge  of  the  fact. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  the  old  trap  is  down.  It  was 
an  eyesore ;  and  Temple  proved  himself  equal  to 
the  occasion,  as  he  always  does.  He  is  a  grand 
man,  that !  " 

Daisy  gave  him  a  smiling,  sympathetic  glance 
that  was  quite  lost  on  him ;  but  Mary  was  watch- 
ing her,  and  she  said  to  herself,  "How  that  girl 
loves  him  !  I  must  speak  to  Arthur !  " 

There  was  to  be  a  meeting  of  the  vestry  at 
noon ;  and  the  rector  gave  orders,  that,  as  it  must 
of  necessity  be  at  lunch-time,  refreshments  were 
to  be  served  in  the  dining-room.  He  was  never 
so  happy  as  when  catering  to  the  comfort  of  his 
friends. 

Coming  into  the  study  while  Daisy  was  going 
over  the  backs  of  the  books  with  a  mammoth 
feather-duster,  he  gravely  put  his  arm  about  her. 


NOT  THE   BEST  THING  183 

"  Little  one,"  he  said,  "  you  spoiled  a  man's  for- 
tune the  day  you  got  your  own." 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  inquiring  eyes.  In 
her  great  joy  she  had  forgotten  the  one  unhappy 
episode  of  that  otherwise  golden  day. 

"  Rush  Severn  was  in  the  church-study  with  me 
early  this  morning,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  —  so  sorry !  "  she  stammered. 

"  So  am  I,"  he  said  softly.  "  The  man  has  a 
fine  nature,  and  feels  a  deep  and  loving  interest  in 
his  profession.  He  is  badly  hurt,  poor  fellow  !  I 
tried  to  comfort  him,  but  I  am  too  sympathetic. 
I  fear  I  only  made  him  feel  worse.  He  is  very 
manly,  though.  He  does  not  blame  you  because 
you  cannot  love  him.  I  have  hoped  that  you 
could." 

"  Will  he  leave  ? "  Daisy  asked,  with  a  half- 
ashamed,  half-eager  manner. 

"  He  wanted  to  resign  at  once,  but  I  think  I  con- 
vinced him  that  it  was  not  the  best  thing  to  do. 
He  will  go  away  for  a  time,  however,  and  has 
consented  to  procure  a  substitute  for  two  or  three 
months.  I  like  the  young  man.  He  is  very 
brave,  though  I  could  see  that  his  suffering  is 
intense.  I  know  you  could  not  trifle  with  him, 
but  I  did  fancy  you  liked  him,  at  one  time." 

"I  like  him  now.  I  shall  always  like  him,  but 
—  I  never  loved  him  —  I  never  could." 


184         IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Never  is  a  long  word,  little  one ;  but  I  sup- 
pose you  have  fathomed  its  meaning.  I  see  Temple 
coming  up  the  walk." 

"  Oh  !  let  me  go  !  let  me  go !  "  said  Daisy,  her 
face  scarlet;  and  she  ran  from  the  room,  leaving 
her  brother  looking  after  her  in  a  dazed  way. 


MY  LITTLE  DAISY  185 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

TEMPLE  ASKS   FOR  DAISY. 

"  WELL,  what  does  that  mean  ?  "  he  said  to  him- 
self, as  Temple  entered  the  study,  let  in,  as  usual, 
by  Zue. 

The  two  men  shook  hands.  The  rector's  face 
was  still  puzzled. 

"  Prince,"  said  Temple,  "  you  will  think,  perhaps, 
that  I  am  here  on  a  strange  errand,  when  I  tell 
you  why  I  have  come.  I  know  you  have  but 
little  time  on  a  Saturday,  and  therefore  come  to 
the  point  at  once.  I  love  your  sister.  I  love  her 
devotedly.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  am  in 
bonds.  Have  I  your  consent  to  win  her  ?  " 

He  stood  erect,  stately,  handsome,  a  fine  model 
of  a  man,  as  the  rector  said  to  himself,  a  glow  in 
the  dark  face  that  lighted  and  even  spiritualized 
the  whole  countenance. 

"  You  love  Daisy,  my  little  Daisy !  "  the  rector 
said,  quietly,  gravely.  "  Ah  !  "  he  drew  a  long 
breath,  "  I  am  enlightened  at  last.  And  she  ?  "  he 
looked  steadily  in  Temple's  face,  a  question  in  his 
eyes. 


186  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Unworthy  as  I  am  of  such  a  blessing,  she  has 
confessed  that  she  loves  me.  I  wish  you  to  under- 
stand, however,  that  nothing  of  a  clandestine 
character  has  been  going  on  under  your  roof.  I 
never  spoke  to  Miss  Daisy  until  yesterday,  when, 
after  a  moment  of  extreme  peril  —  you  have 
doubtless  heard  of  my  escape  —  she  expressed  so 
kindly  a  sympathy  that  it  emboldened  me  to  tell 
her  of  my  love.  The  rest  followed." 

The  rector  was  silent  for  a  moment.  With 
glance  downcast,  and  not  a  little  tumult  of  soul, 
for  it  seemed  as  if  another  burden  had  been  added 
to  his  many  cares,  so  little  prepared  was  he  to  hear 
such  news,  he  pondered  upon  this  undreamed-of 
fact  of  Daisy's  love  for  the  man  who  stood  before 
him. 

"  I  could  have  wished,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  that 
your  beliefs,  at  least,  were  more  in  accordance 
with  hers  and  my  own." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  I  anticipated  that 
remark.  But  who  knows  what  love  may  win  for 
me?" 

"  Well,  we  won't  discuss  theology  just  now," 
said  the  rector  smilingly.  "  I  have  every  confi- 
dence in  you,  Temple,  because,  though  the  head  is 
somewhat  wrong  in  my  estimation,  the  heart  is 
right.  And  if  Daisy  loves  you,  that  is  enough.  I 
am  sure  you  can  make  her  happy,  only  —  but  here 


AS  FREE  AS  AIR  187 

come  my  vestrymen,  and  —  of  course,  the  subject 
must  drop  right  here.  God  bless  you,  my  friend, 
and  bring  you  more  fully  to  the  light !  " 

"  But  I  have  much  to  say ;  in  fact,  something  to 
confess.  I  wish  to  be  frank  with  you.  There  is 
a  dark  page  in  the  history  of  my  life  which  I  must 
tell  you  before  this  goes  any  further,  and  in  two 
hours  from  now  I  leave  Fairstock  for  a  somewhat 
protracted  stay." 

The  rector  breathed  more  freely. 

"  Well,  we  can  wait,"  he  said,  as  several  gentle- 
men came  up  the  walk.  "  Of  course  you  will 
leave  matters  as  they  are  till  we  meet  again. 
There  must  be  no  engagement  for  the  present." 

"  I  promise  you  I  will  leave  Daisy  as  free  as 
air." 

"  That  is  all  I  ask.  You  will  find  my  sister  in 
the  room  beyond.  Good-by;  and,  again,  God 
bless  you ! " 

Temple  went  into  the  room  designated.  It  was 
all  in  shadow.  Daisy  had  drawn  the  curtains  to- 
gether, and  sat,  shy  and  uncomfortable,  in  a  corner 
of  the  great  lounge,  her  face  very  white,  and  her 
beautiful  eyes  preternaturally  large  and  bright. 

"  Why,  you  are  in  the  dark  !  "  said  Temple,  with 
a  man's  thoughtlessness,  drawing  the  curtains 
asunder,  the  light  disclosing  Daisy's  now  blushing 
face.  "  My  darling,"  he  went  on,  "  I  must  gloat 


188         IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

over  you  for  a  few  moments  with  all  the  passion  a 
miser  would  over  his  gold.  I  am  leaving  town." 

"  So  soon ! "  and  both  Daisy's  hands  were 
prisoned  in  his  strong  grasp.  He  stooped  as  if  to 
kiss  her,  but  she  drew  back  with  a  half-frightened 
reserve,  and  he  desisted.  Then  he  sat  down  by 
her  side. 

"  Yes,  dear,  I  must  be  in  New  York  to-night.  I 
tried  to  put  off  the  evil  hour,  but  the  last  message 
was  imperative.  I  am  obliged  to  go  on  most 
important  business.  May  I  write  to  you?  O  Daisy! 
I  can't  realize  my  great  happiness.  Your  sweet 
face  is  with  me  always.  When  I  awoke  this 
morning,  it  was  heaven.  My  beautiful  darling, 
you  shall  never  regret  having  given  your  love  to 
me." 

"  I  do  not  regret.  I  cannot  regret,"  she  mur- 
mured. "Did  you  see  my  brother?  Did  —  you 
—  tell  him?" 

"  Yes,  I  saw  him ;  I  told  him.  He  was  nobly 
good,  marvellously  kind,  like  his  glorious  self.  He 
is  my  ideal  of  a  Christian  clergyman.  I  hold  him 
as  a  model  —  I  reverence  him.  You  hear  this 
from  the  lips  of  a  man  the  world  calls  infidel  — 
for  to  you  I  may  confess  my  most  secret  thoughts. 
His  magnetism  strengthens  me,  his  charity  binds 
me  to  him  with  bands  as  strong  as  steel ;  and 
what,  dear  love,  may  not  you  do  ?  Daisy,  you  see 


IF  IT  BE  POSSIBLE 


189 


before  you  a  man  who  despises  all  shams,  but  who 
is  truly  striving  to-  reach  the  highest  pinnacle  of 
both  greatness    and  goodness.     Your  brother  has 
stormed  the    outworks   of    the   citadel.     He   has 
turned  my  thoughts   into   a  new  channel.     You 
will  have  access   to  the  innermost  parts   of   the 
fortress,  not  by  force  of  discussion  and  worn-out 
arguments,    but    by    that    great    conqueror    and 
leveller  —  love.     That  is  all  I  ask,  Daisy  :  love  me, 
for  I  have  never  had  any  love  in  my  life.     My 
mother  died  when  I  was  an  infant;    my  father, 
when  I  was  only  ten   years  old.     I  had  neither 
brother  nor  sister,  only  an  uncle,  who  brought  me 
up.     I  have  always  been  so  lonesome,  and  have 
borne  the  brunt  of  so  much  that  was  unusual  and 
even  unnatural,  that  I  wonder  I  do  not  hate  all 
mankind.     Daisy,  you  will  make  up  to  me  for  all 

that." 

"  I  will,  if  it  be  possible,"  said  Daisy,  her  eyes 
shining  through  tears,  her  hands  outstretched,  and 
this  time  she  did  not  refuse  him  her  lips. 

An  hour  later  the  dishes  rattled  in  the  dining- 
room,  the  laugh  and  jest  went  round.  A  question 
of  vital  importance  had  been  settled,  and  the 
rector  and  his  vestry  were  in  harmony. 

Daisy  heard  them,  but  she  still  sat  silent  and 
alone  in  the  corner  of  the  great  lounge,  her  eyes 
closed,  a  radiance  in  her  face  that  seemed  scarcely 


190  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

of  earth.  Too  happy  to  move,  in  a  sort  of  semi- 
trance,  she  sat  there  till  called  to  earth  by  Mary's 
imperative  voice.  Then  she  started  to  her  feet, 
and  saw  her  sister-in-law,  pale  and  anxious. 

"I've  been  looking  for  you  everywhere,"  the 
latter  said.  "  You  and  I  must  go  into  the  kitchen, 
for  Margy  has  hurt  herself." 

"  Margy  !  Why,  what  has  happened  ?  "  asked 
Daisy,  roused  to  a  painful  sense  of  every-day  life, 
as  she  came  out  of  the  shadow. 

"  Before  Arthur  went  out  with  his  vestry," 
Mary  made  reply,  "  he  found  a  moment  to  run  up- 
stairs, —  wanted  a  button  sewed  on,  of  course. 
Margy  was  in  my  room  fixing  the  sewing-machine 
for  me.  Arthur  didn't  see  her,  and  he  told  me 
Temple  had  been  here,  and  had  asked  him  for  you. 
O  Daisy !  Daisy !  I  never  had  anything  upset  me 
so.  '  He  is  dead  in  love,'  said  Arthur, '  and  honest 
enough  about  it,  but  I  won't  have  any  engagement, 
and  I  told  him  so.  I've  got  to  know  more  about 
the  man.'  With  that  there  was  a  scream,  and 
there  was  Margy  absolutely  in  a  dead  faint.  I  had 
all  I  could  do  to  bring  her  to.  '  What  in  the 
world  made  you  faint  ? '  I  asked  her.  '  The  presser 
came  down  on  my  finger,'  she  said;  and  sure 
enough,  her  finger  was  almost  flat.  I  don't  wonder 
she  fainted.  I  sent  her  to  her  room,  and  just  now, 
going  up  there,  found  her  on  the  bed,  sobbing  her 


DAISY  WONDERS  191 

heart  out.  Now,  would  flattening  her  finger  on 
the  machine  make  her  do  all  that?  a  strong,  sen- 
sible woman  like  Margy  ?  I  don't  know  what  has 
come  over  her  of  late.  She  seems  morose  and  un- 
happy ;  haven't  you  noticed  it  ?  I  told  her  just  to 
stay  there  if  she  was  suffering  so  much.  So  I 
came  down  to  find  you.  We  shall  have  to  put 
on  our  kitchen-aprons  and  attend  to  the  baking. 
Luckily  the  babies  are  asleep." 

"  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute,"  said  Daisy,  and 
ran  up-stairs  for  an  apron.  On  the  first  landing 
she  met  Margy  coming  down-stairs,  her  face  as 
white  as  a  sheet. 

"  Why,  Margy,"  she  said,  "  I'm  sorry  you  hurt 
yourself.  Why  didn't  you  stay  up-stairs  ?  Mary 
and  I  were  going  to  finish  the  baking." 

The  woman  paused,  and  looked  at  her  with  a 
strange,  wild  stare. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Daisy ! "  she  said,  as  if  with  an 
effort,  then  stopped.  A  little  color  came  into  her 
cheeks.  "  I'm  better  now,"  she  added,  in  a  con- 
strained voice,  losing  the  anxious,  questioning 
look.  "  I  can  get  on  very  well  with  the  baking. 
Fortunately  it's  my  left  hand ;  "  and  down  she 
went,  briskly,  leaving  Daisy  standing  looking 
after  her. 

"  What  should  make  her  so  clumsy  all  at  once, 
I  wonder?"  she  mused.  "  Arthur  was  telling  of 


192  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

that  interview  with  Temple.  I  do  wish  he  had 
held  his  tongue.  Of  course,  he  didn't  know  she 
was  there.  It's  always  that,  —  the  sight  of  him, 
the  mention  of  his  name.  What  can  it  be  ?  " 

Mary  came  up  and  into  her  room  in  a  few 
moments. 

"  It's  all  right,"  she  said  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
"  I'm  glad  enough  to  get  out  of  the  kitchen. 
Margy  has  spoiled  me.  But,  Daisy,  do  you  know 
I  am  astonished,  overpowered,  in  fact,  by  this 
news  ?  Can  it  be  possible  that  you  have  accepted 
Mr.  Temple  for  a  lover?  Consider,  child,  he  is 
years  older  than  you  are.  In  a  little  while  he  will 
be  venerable." 

"  Do  you  think  I  care,  if  only  he  loves  me  ?  " 
Daisy  asked,  with  shining  eyes. 

"  Then  you  do  love  him  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you,  Mary."  She  sat  down  by  the  side 
of  her  sister-in-law.  "  I  loved  him  almost  the 
first  time  I  saw  him.  There's  brazenness  for 
you !  "  and  down  goes  the  bright  head  on  Mary's 
shoulder. 

"  Why,  Daisy,  you  are  crying  !  "  her  sister-in-law 
says,  presently. 

"I  —  can't  —  help  it  —  I'm  so  —  so  —  hap  — 
happy!"  is  the  sobbing  reply. 

"  Well,  Daisy,  I  must  say  that  you  are  an 
enigma.  Crying  because  you  were  unhappy  yes- 


A  HEATHENISH  IDEA  193 

terday;  to-day,  crying  because  you  are  happy. 
Sly  little  puss  you  have  been,  too." 

"  No,  not  a  bit  sly,  for  I  never  thought  he  cared 
for  me,  till  within  a  day  or  two.  That  awful  leap 
he  took !  It  was  my  fright  and  my  joy,  all  together, 
that  made  him  speak ;  and,  oh,  Mary !  "  —  down 
went  her  head  again,  while  Mary  patted  the  pretty 
locks,  smiling  serenely. 

"  Well,  it  can't  be  helped,  —  and  he  is  Arthur's 
friend,"  she  went  on  ramblingly.  "I  suppose -I 
ought  to  wish  you  joy,  for  that  and  your  good 
luck.  The  fifteen  thousand  dollars  come  in  so 
beautifully.  But  Arthur  objects  to  an  engage- 
ment." 

"So  does  Mr.  Temple.  "We  shall  never  be 
engaged,"  said  Daisy  simply. 

"  What !  "  and  Mary's  face  took  on  an  expression 
of  bewilderment. 

"  I  mean  in  the  ordinary  way.  He  don't  believe 
in  engagement-rings,  and  neither  do  I.  Some 
time  or  other,  we  shall  —  just  get  married,  that's 
all." 

"  What  a  heathenish  idea ! "  Mary  exclaimed. 
"  I  think  engagements  are  lovely !  These  very 
superior  men  are  always  full  of  whims  and  oddi- 
ties. But  I  won't  tease  you,  child.  I'm  sure  I 
wish  you  all  manner  of  happiness,  though  I  confess, 
I  can't  understand  how  you  can  prefer  Temple  to 


194        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

Rush  Severn.  I  will  acknowledge  that  he  is  ex- 
ceedingly handsome,  learned,  and  all  that." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  he  saw  in  poor  little  me 
to  fall  in  love  with  ?  "  Daisy  asks,  turning  towards 
the  mirror.  "  Not  beauty,  certainly." 

"  How  modest  we  are  I  "  laughed  Mary.  "  I'll 
tell  you  what  he  saw,  —  a  dear,  bewitching  little 
girl,  with  the  sort  of  good  looks  very  few  people 
have,  without  vanity,  and  as  clever  as  need  be. 
As  for  your  mental  gifts,  they  are  more  than  fair, 
and  your  voice  is  matchless.  Oh  !  you  needn't 
think  you  have  the  best  of  the  bargain,  and  fall 
down  and  worship  him,  as  most  girls  do.  He  is  a 
very  lucky  man  if  he  gets  you,  I  can  tell  him.  It 
isn't  every  young  lady  who  can  sing  Beethoven's 
'  Adelaide,'  construe  Latin  and  Hebrew,  and  make 
delicious  bread." 

Daisy  was  lost  in  contemplation.  Her  lips 
smiled  at  the  compliment,  but  her  eyes  had  a  far- 
away look,  as  she  said  a  moment  after,  — 

"  And  only  think,  Mary,  I  am  the  first  woman 
he  has  ever  loved !  " 

Outwardly  Mary  acquiesced  with  the  spirit  of 
this  little  outburst,  by  a  simple  nod.  Inwardly 
she  said,  — 

"Pie  never  could  have  made  me  believe  that, 
and  he  thirty-five  years  old  at  the  least ;  "  but  she 
would  say  nothing  to  shake  Daisy's  beautiful 


A  HEINOUS  FAULT  195 

faith.  She  really  had  very  little  sympathy  in 
regard  to  the  prospective  alliance. 

A  blind  kind  of  admiration  for  the  man's  intel- 
lectual attainments,  and  a  horror  of  his  supposed 
tenets,  were  mingled  in  her  mind  with  the  respect 
she  felt  for  one  of  her  husband's  friends.  But  he 
was  too  dark,  reserved,  silent,  in  her  presence, 
and,  most  heinous  fault  of  all,  he  never  had  taken 
any  special  notice  of  the  twins.  It  was  not  in 
her  mother's  nature  to  overlook  such  a  grave  lack 
of  appreciation  as  this,  and  she  even  augured  ill 
for  Daisy's  future  in  this  supposed  dislike  for 
children.  The  fact  was,  that  Temple  was  really 
fond  of  children,  but  regarding  them  as  small 
savages,  very  apt  to  turn  upon  their  admirers,  he 
was  proportionately  afraid  of  them  while  in  the 
state  of  infantile  adolescence,  and  veiy  seldom 
noticed  them  except  by  stealth. 

"  The  dear  little  fellows  are  awake,"  said  Mary, 
giving  Daisy's  hand  a  final  pat,  and  hurried  from 
the  room,  leaving  that  innocent  young  creature  in 
the  first  heaven  of  her  bliss. 


196  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

MAKGY  WRITES. 

WHAT  shall  I  say  ?  I  am  all  in  a  horror  of 
tumult  and  apprehension.  When  I  went  out  that 
day  —  was  it  only  yesterday  ?  —  I  felt  that  I  should 
solve  some  mystery,  Miss  Daisy  looked  so  pale 
and  anxious.  The  professor  had  been  here,  and 
gone  with  that  written  in  his  face  I  should  not 
care  to  read.  Of  course  he  loves  her !  I  have 
always  seen  that ;  and,  oh !  unfortunate  girl !  why 
could  she  not  have  loved  him  ? 

How  is  it,  that,  with  the  best  motives  in  the 
world,  we  all  go  wrong  ?  Zue  is  wilful  and  capri- 
cious as  she  can  be,  and  gives  me  no  comfort 
because  she  seems  to  have  inherited  all  the  evil  in 
her  father's  nature,  along  with  his  many  gifts. 

And  as  I  have  no  patience  with  her,  and  at  times 
but  little  love,  regarding  her  as  I  do,  as  his  un- 
worthy image,  I  can  make  nothing  of  her.  Miss 
Daisy  can  influence  her,  but  of  late  seems  to  care 
but  little  for  the  child. 

Well,  let  that  pass.  I  must  turn  to  other 
matters. 


THE  LEAP  FOR  LIFE  197 

I  saw  the  wall  of  the  old  mill  fall  down.  As  I 
crouched  there  in  the  shadow  of  a  rock,  as  his 
figure  stood  swaying  in  the  air,  I  clasped  my  hands 
and  prayed  —  yes,  I  was  wicked  enough  to  pray 
that  he  might  fall  and  be  killed.  It  was  a  bitter 
prayer,  but  God  knows  his  death  would  have  made 
life  easier  for  us  all.  The  man  I  scorn  and  loathe 
and  once  loved,  was  too  much  for  fate,  however. 
He  leaped,  and  while  I  looked  to  see  him  land  on 
the  rocks  or  in  the  river,  he  cleared  them  both.  I 
looked  steadily,  I  never  closed  my  eyes.  I  wanted 
to  see  and  be  sure  of  his  utter  failure,  and  instead, 
I  witnessed  his  triumph.  It  was  grandly  done.  I 
could  not  have  believed  it  would  be,  and  I  was 
left  to  battle  with  doubt  and  terror. 

If  I  could  only  go  away  and  hide  myself  and 
my  child !  But  I  cannot.  I  should  be  dragged 
from  my  hiding-place  and  branded  with  disgrace. 
I  should  deceive  the  best  man  and  the  sweetest 
woman  that  God  ever  made.  No,  I  can't  do  that. 
I  must  face  the  inevitable,  some  time,  some  way. 
God  give  me  courage  !  When  the  hour  comes,  I 
only  pray  for  strength  to  do  my  whole  duty.  It 
should  be  done  now  ;  but  they  are  not  engaged  — 
and  he  has  gone  away.  I  will  wait  a  little  longer. 

I  am  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  horror  from 
morning  till  night.  When  I  heard  from  Mr. 
Prince  this  morning  that  he  had  won  that  pure 


198  IP  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

young  heart,  I  thought  I  should  go  mad  for  a 
moment.  Well  it  was  that  the  presser  came  down 
on  my  finger,  and  the  torture  forced  me  to  scream. 
I  should  have  screamed  anyway,  the  news  was  so 
horrible,  knowing  what  I  know  —  knowing  also 
that  he  is  strong  and  I  am  weak  —  that  he  would 
probably  deny  everything,  and,  as  he  is  a  lawyer, 
bring  proof  against  proof.  Oh,  no  !  I  must  be 
careful  and  watch  my  opportunity. 

Thank  God,  the  rector  is  wise  !  He  has  not  yet 
given  his  consent. 

"  We  must  wait  till  we  know  him  better,"  he 
said.  Yes,  you  shall  know  him,  know  his  vanity, 
his  recklessness,  his  cruelty.  You  shall  know  him 
by  following  the  map  on  my  heart,  which  long  ago, 
long  ago,  beat  so  fondly  and  truly  for  him. 

And,  oh,  the  sadness  of  it !  She  loves  him ! 
Haven't  I  seen  her  tremble  when  he  spoke  to  her 
at  the  table?  Haven't  I  read  the  adoration  in 
her  glances  ? 

Am  I  jealous  ? 

Is  it  that  that  makes  it  so  easy  to  read  their 
very  thoughts? 

If  so,  I  hate  myself  for  it,  hate  myself  that  his 
image  comes  to  me  in  my  dreams  so  that  I  cry 
out  with  pain,  so  that  I  wake  up  and  walk  and 
walk,  to  change  the  current  of  my  thoughts. 

I  look  at  my  child  and  say,  "  This  man  who  has 


HER  FATHER'S  FACE  199 

made  himself  so  famous,  whom  men  bow  down  to 
and  women  love,  is  your  father !  "  And  then,  poor 
soul,  I  feel  a  certain  hatred  towards  her  because 
she  is  his  child! 

Sometimes  come  darker  thoughts.  The  easiest 
way  to  end  it  all  is  to  die.  Shall  I  ever  have  the 
courage  to  face  this  awful  responsibility?  The  tor- 
ture is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear,  the  torture  of 
thought,  of  uncertainty,  of  the  fear  of  what  the 
consequences  may  be. 

And  all  because  he  is  changed,  and  rich  and 
great,  and  has  been  going  forward,  while  I  have 
been  going  backward.  They  may  think  I  am 
mercenary ;  but,  as  Heaven  hears  me,  I  would  not 
take  a  cent  from  him  if  I  were  starving.  Neither 
should  the  child. 

Some  three  weeks  ago  I  had  almost  come  to  a 
decision  to  leave  this  place.  In  the  midst  of  my 
anxieties,  the  face  of  my  father  suddenly  rose 
before  me.  I  was  seized  with  a  yearning  to  find 
out  whether  he  was  living  or  dead.  More  than  ten 
years  have  passed  since  I  last  saw  him.  Was  he 
in  the  same  old  parsonage  ?  How  could  I  learn  ? 
Then  it  occurred  to  me  to  write  to  a  Mrs.  Austin, 
one  of  his  parishioners,  a  woman  who  had  been 
foremost  in  every  good  work,  and  a  great  friend 
of  my  mother.  I  would  write  her  as  being  an  old 
acquaintance  of  the  rector,  and  so  learn  of  his 
present  standing. 


200  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

I  accordingly  wrote  the  letter,  and  carried  it  to 
the  post-office  myself.  On  the  threshold  I  started 
back.  He  was  there  waiting  for  letters  and  papers. 
He  looked  at  me,  too,  squarely  in  the  face,  but 
nothing  followed  the  glance.  Stone  itself  could 
not  have  been  calmer.  Well,  to  be  sure,  I  must 
be  changed ;  but  not  so  changed  that  he  can  have 
forgotten  me.  No,  no ;  in  his  guilty  soul  there 
must  be  some  memory  of  the  woman  he  so  basely 
deserted. 

I  waited  outside  till  he  had  gone,  furious  at 
myself  for  having  challenged  his  memory. 

There  is,  then,  no  need  of  disguise.  I  am 
blotted  out  of  his  mind  as  of  his  life. 

I  sent  my  letter. 

Yesterday  an  answer  came,  and  in  these  words : 

MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  The  clergyman  you  inquire  about 
is  still  living,  though  not  at  the  present  time  in  this  pai'ish. 
About  five  years  ago  he  contracted  marriage  with  Mrs. 
Ablethwaite,  a  very  rich  widow,  whose  husband  had  been 
dead  two  years.  Being  decidedly  a  woman  of  ambitious 
tendencies,  she  began  at  once  to  find  new  fields  to  conquer. 
Under  her  administration  the  rector  became  an  entirely 
different  man  in  every  particular.  He  changed  the  fashion 
of  his  dress,  even  to  his  robes ;  and  instead  of  the  old 
formalist  who  droned  thi'ough  his  long  sermon,  he  became 
animated,  gave  us  shorter  discourses,  and  sought  out  new 
acquaintances.  One  year  ago  he  was  called  to  a  city 
church,  St.  Stephen's,  of  New  York,  and  accepted.  He 


HE  DID  CARE  FOR  ME  201 

has,  I  am  told,  a  large  and  fashionable  congregation,  and 
he  and  his  wife  are  very  popular..  As  you  seem  to  have 
known  the  family  here  at  Welby  Corners,  can  you  tell  me 
the  whereabouts  of  the  rector's  daughter,  who  left  her  home 
some  ten  or  more  years  ago,  and  never  returned  ?  I  re- 
member her  as  a  light-hearted,  neglected  girl,  for  whom, 
after  her  mother's  death,  her  father  seemed  to  have  no 
fondness  ;  but  I  fear  that  she  has  many  times  repented  of  her 
flight.  At  the  time  of  her  disappearance  her  father  was 
very  ill ;  and  when  he  had  nearly  recovered,  the  news  of 
her  leaving  school  set  him  back  again,  and  for  a  time  his 
life  was  despaired  of.  He  was  very  fond  of  his  one  child, 
though  so  quiet  and  cold  in  manner,  and  would  at  any  time 
have  welcomed  her  back  with  open  arms.  I  sincerely  hope 
that  she  has  not  suffered  for  her  thoughtlessness ;  but  how 
many  of  us  escape  the  consequences  of  our  own  wrong- 
doing ? 

It  was  evident  to  me  that  the  writer  more  than 
half  suspected  that  the  clergyman's  daughter  was 
the  writer  of  the  letter. 

So,  my  father  had  been  married  for  years,  and  to 
a  woman  I  had  never  liked.  How  well  I  remem- 
bered little  Rose  Ablethwaite,  one  of  my  school- 
mates !  Now  my  father  called  her  daughter,  while 
I  was  denied  that  privilege.  But,  as  the  letter 
said,  I  have  only  myself  to  blame.  My  life  has 
been  a  mistake.  At  every  step  I  have  gone  far- 
ther from  hope  and  home.  Shall  I  ever  behold 
my  father's  face  again?  And,  after  all,  he  did 
care  for  me.  Oh  !  why  did  he  not  show  me  some 


202  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

tenderness  ?  I  could  have  loved  him  so  dearly  ' 
But  I  thought  he  disliked  me. 

I  can  hardly  realize  the  fact  that  my  cold,  pale, 
stern  father  is  popular.  This  woman,  his  present 
wife,  has  worked  wonders.  My  father  the  rector 
of  a  city  church  !  His  neglected  child  the  drudge, 
though  Heaven  knows  a  willing  one,  in  the  house 
of  a  brother  clergyman,  herself  burdened  with  a 
young  life  that  she  can  neither  conquer  nor  control, 
tortured  by  questions  she  cannot  answer,  half 
crazed  by  circumstances  which  threaten  her  peace 
of  mind,  and  the  honor  of  those  she  loves.  Was 
ever  a  poor  soul  so  cruelly  tried  ? 

And  my  father  is  a  popular  city  clergyman  ! 


A  GLIMPSE  OF  PARADISE  203 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A   ROYAL   WELCOME. 

WHEN  Andrew  Temple  left  the  rectory,  his 
every  thought  was  a  protest  against  fate. 

To  leave  just  now,  when  fortune  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  had  smiled  upon  him,  and  without 
the  expected  though  dreaded  interview  with  the 
rector,  was  a  kind  of  torture.  Success  he  had 
experienced,  but  not  of  this  sort.  Woman's  love 
had  ever  seemed  as  far  beyond  his  hopes  as  the 
glittering  stars  beyond  his  reach.  In  many  fash- 
ionable assemblies  he  had  been  the  honored  guest. 
Women  in  society  had  smiled  upon  him,  but  never 
yet  had  their  smiles  touched  his  heart.  He  had 
formed  his  ideal,  as  most  men  do.  The  coming 
woman  was  not  a  prodigy  of-  beauty,  neither 
remarkably  witty  nor  wealthy,  but  good  and  pure. 
With  what  utter  devotion,  when  he  should  be  so 
blessed  as  to  find  her,  would  he  mould  his  wishes,  his 
very  thoughts,  to  the  delightful  task  of  making  her 
life  a  happy  one !  To  look  forward  to  a  home  of 
his  own  was  like  a  glimpse  of  Paradise  to  the  man 


204  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

who  had  never  known  the  real  meaning  of  the 
word.  And  he  never  had.  His  uncle  had  adopted 
him  when  he  was  ten  years  old.  The  domestic 
lares  and  penates  were  sacrificed  by  this  man  on 
the  altar  of  business.  His  wife,  a  thin,  stooping, 
creature,  who  had  been  remarkably  beautiful  in 
her  youth,  dismayed  and  distracted  by  the  loss  of 
three  children  in  as  many  weeks,  had  never  recov- 
ered from  the  shock.  Andrew  remembered  her  as 
always  moving  to  and  fro,  with  an  expression  of 
unutterable  sadness  in  her  hollow  eyes,  and  him- 
self as  always  pitying  her.  His  uncle  had  hoped 
much  for  his  wife  from  this  adoption  of  his  nephew, 
but  nothing  came  of  it.  She  was  kind  to  him,  but 
he  never  took  the  place  of  her  children.  Forced 
to  forego  all  evidence  of  tenderness  on  her  part, 
his  heart  retreated  within  its  citadel,  and  almost 
lost  the  faculty  of  loving.  Day  after  day,  month 
after  month,  year  after  year,  he  saw  the  same 
dreary  hearthstone,  which,  to  his  uncle  as  well  as 
himself,  was  a  mockery  of  the  real  thing ;  and  it 
was  a  wonder  that  his  nature  did  not  grow  sordid 
and  base  in  so  unreal  an  atmosphere. 

Then  came  a  time  of  anguish  and  misery,  a 
turning  of  his  whole  soul  toward  the  attempt  to 
right  a  wrong.  No  chance  for  thought  of  love 
now  ;  scarcely  time  for  friendship.  From  the  age 
of  fifteen  to  twenty-five  he  was  a  slave,  working 


A  MUTUAL   AFFECTION  205 

always  under  a  burning  sense  of  shame.  His 
uncle  and  aunt  were  both  dead  then,  and  he  had 
no  one  to  depend  upon  but  himself.  Genius  set 
him  apart  as  a  man  to  be  looked  up  to,  as  the 
wisest  and  brightest  among  his  peers.  The  free 
utterance  of  his  thoughts  made  him  loved  at  times, 
at  times  feared.  He  was  aggressive  in  many  ways 
at  the  time  he  met  Arthur  Prince.  The  two  men 
were  alike  in  more  than  one  characteristic,  and  a 
mutual  affection  sprung  up  between  them.  Seeing 
the  exceptional  beauty  and  purity  of  the  rector's 
life,  and  yet  his  freedom  from  certain  restraints  of 
dogma,  made  the  friendship  complete. 

When  he  first  saw  Daisy,  she  looked  like  a  child 
to  him.  She  sat  in  the  rectory-study,  a  book  in 
her  hands,  —  delicate  blue-veined  hands,  perfect  in 
every  detail,  —  and  simply  smiled  and  bowed  as 
her  brother  mentioned  Temple's  name.  Then, 
sitting  aside,  she  watched  the  two  men  as  they 
entered  into  a  war  of  words,  and  saw  that  in  the 
face  of  the  stranger  that  set  her  young  soul  in  a 
tumult  at  once. 

Some  authority  was  needed  to  prove  a  disputed 
sentence  in  Latin.  Quite  naturally  the  rector 
turned  to  Daisy  with  the  question,  — 

"  Do  you  remember,  Daisy  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  I  think  Mr.  Temple  is  right,"  she 
answered  simply,  a  musical  vibration  in  her  full, 


206  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

soft  tones.  "  But  I  can  get  it  for  you  at  once.  I 
know  where  it  is." 

"The  little  one  understands  Latin,  then,"  said 
Andrew  Temple,  as  Daisy  left  the  room. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  reads  it  better  than  I  do,"  the  rector 
answered,  laughing.  "  I  always  go  to  her  when  I 
find  myself  in  a  tight  place,  either  in  Latin  or 
Hebrew." 

"What!  a  woman  read  Hebrew?  A  young  girl 
like  that !  She  must  be  a  monster  of  erudition," 
said  Temple,  astonished. 

"Oh,  no!  simply  she  learns  the  languages 
readily ;  has  a  gift  that  way.  She  studied  Hebrew 
when  only  twelve  or  thirteen,  at  home,  and  abso- 
lutely outstripped  me,  as  she  has  in  Latin.  She 
has  no  genius  that  I  know  of,  only  she  is  remark- 
ably able.  But  in  singing  !  there,  I  grant  you, 
she  excels.  If  she  wished  for  a  public  career,  I 
have  no  doubt  she  could  attain  to  eminence  as  a 
musical  celebrity.  I  have  seldom  heard  so  singu- 
larly clear  and  pure  a  voice." 

Just  at  that  moment  Daisy  came  in,  a  book  in 
one  hand,  a  kitten  with  its  paw  bandaged  in  the 
other. 

"  There,  you'll  find  it  as  I  said,  and  Mr.  Temple 
was  right,"  giving  a  shy  look  at  the  stranger,  who 
was  already  glowing  at  the  thought  of  her  singu- 
lar attainments.  "  And,  O  Arthur !  "  she  went  on, 


A  NAMELESS  RAPTURE  207 

"  how  could  you  leave  the  mouse-trap  on  the  floor  ? 
Poor  little  Lapwing  has  got  her  foot  torn,  and  I 
expect  she  is  suffering  tortures." 

Then,  as  her  brother  made  a  lame  and  laughing 
excuse,  she  retreated  to  her  chair,  fondling  the 
kitten,  her  heart  beating  more  quickly  than  usual, 
for  the  bewildering,  magnetic  eyes  that  looked 
into  her  own  were  lambent  with  an  expression  she 
could  not  understand,  yet  which,  nevertheless, 
affected  her  with  a  nameless  rapture. 

From  that  day  on,  the  great  lawyer  took  but 
furtive  notice  of  the  young  girl,  and,  save  that 
his  eyes  and  manner  in  her  presence  would  tell 
tales,  but  very  little  communication  passed  between 
them.  The  child,  however,  became  the  woman  at 
once,  in  his  eyes;  the  woman  with  the  child's 
pure  heart,  slight  figure,  and  sweet  consciousness. 
Then  when  he  heard  her  voice,  the  mystic  chain 
was  forged,  the  charm  completed. 

Never  in  all  his  life  had  he  listened  to  singing 
that  equalled  hers.  He  could  compare  it  to  noth- 
ing but  the  notes  of  a  nightingale  which  he  had 
once  heard,  notes  that,  in  Moore's  remembered 

words,  — 

"  Fall  as  soft  as  snow  on  the  sea, 
And  melt  in  the  heart  as  instantly." 

The  more  he  studied  this,  to  him,  unique  per- 
sonification of  maidenhood,  strong  without  self- 


208  IP  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

assertion,  learned  without  pedantry,  with  a  child's 
thorough  enjoyment  in  all  rational  pleasures,  and 
yet  never  so  happy  as  when  at  home,  the  more 
hopelessly  he  became  entangled  in  the  meshes  of 
love  Daisy  had  so  unconsciously  woven  about  his 
imagination. 

To  tear  himself  from  such  a  creature  just  as  he 
had  come  into  possession  of  the  kingdom  of  her 
heart,  was  to  leave  hope  and  happiness  behind  him. 
And  yet  her  sweet,  clear  eyes  looked  at  him  through 
the  darkness.  Was  she  not  his,  for  all  time? 
for  all  eternity,  by  the  declaration  of  her  own 
will?  Why  followed  upon  his  ecstasy  that  thrill 
that  to  some  temperaments  presages  trouble  or 
loss? 

As  the  iron  wheels  rolled  on,  the  thoughts  that 
had  formed  like  dark  clouds  over  the  horizon  of 
his  happiness  cleared  away. 

On  the  second  day  of  his  journey  he  made  him- 
self as  comfortable  as  possible  with  his  railway- 
rug,  and  began  to  think  of  the  future.  The 
scarlet  fires  of  great  manufacturing  districts  belched 
through  the  gloom  as  night  came  on.  Red  and 
yellow  forge-flames  overlaid  the  darkness,  and 
threw  lurid  colors  on  the  banks,  dancing  gro- 
tesquely after  rock,  tree,  and  field.  His  fellow- 
passengers  amused  themselves  in  various  ways. 

"It  makes  my  very  soul  sick,"  he  had  said  at 


A  HEARTY  WELCOME  209 

times  in  his  previous  experiences;  "  to  see  two 
fools  billing  and  cooing  in  public."  And  here 
were  two  fools  just  in  front  of  him,  newly  wedded, 
whom  he  found  himself  watching  with  little  throbs 
of  envy. 

"  Perhaps  I  should  be  a  greater  fool  than  either 
of  them,"  he  muttered  with  a  shrug  and  a  scowl, 
as  he  pulled  himself  together,  and  the  image  of 
Daisy  came  before  him.  "  Well,  I  will  bide  my 
time." 

It  was  nearing  ten  o'clock  when  the  cars  rattled 
into  the  depot  at  his  destination.  He  gathered 
his  effects  together  and  went  out  into  the  little, 
well-lighted  world,  beyond  the  platform,  where 
friend  met  friend,  and  the  prospect  of  home  looked 
sweet  indeed  to  many  a  weary  traveller. 

"  Here  we  are  ! "  shouted  a  jolly  voice.  "  Wel- 
come !  welcome  !  "  and  not  only  one  but  several 
pairs  of  hands  were  extended  towards  him. 

"  The  matter  is  settled,"  said  a  man  taller  and 
graver-looking  than  the  others.  "  Andrew  Temple, 
let  me  congratulate  you.  You  are  a  senator  of 
the  United  States.  Come  on,  there  is  a  carriage 
here,  and  you  are  to  meet  a  dozen  or  so  of  your 
friends  at  Willard's.  We  have  been  waiting  some 
hours  —  the  train  is  behind  time.  Did  you  know 
it?" 

"No,"  said  Temple,  moving  forward  with  the 


210  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

crowd,  "  I  never  thought  of  it.  The  fact  is  —  1 
—  I  —  was  "  —  he  stopped  awkwardly. 

"  Thinking  of  some  thing  or  some  one  else, 
eh  ?  "  asked  a  short,  moon-faced  man,  dressed  in  a 
suit  of  blue,  as  he  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 
"  Well,  I  don't  wonder.  Such  success  as  yours  is 
calculated  to  turn  a  man's  head." 

They  found  the  carriage  in  waiting.  Driving 
at  once  to  the  hotel,  they  were  soon  in  possession 
of  a  private  suite  of  rooms,  and  Temple  went  to 
his  own  apartment  to  wash  off  the  dust  of  travel. 

One  by  one  the  friends  of  the  new  senator 
arrived,  and  were  shown  into  the  parlor  adjoining 
the  private  dining-room.  Temple  was  greeted 
with  almost  boisterous  welcome  when  he  made  his 
appearance,  and  surrounded  at  once  by  his  admir- 
ers. It  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that  he  held  the 
hearts  of  men  in  his  hands,  as  they  crowded  about 
him,  wishing  him  joy  of  his  laurels,  and  predicting 
all  manner  of  success. 

"  My  sister  Eleanor  wished  me  to  offer  you  her 
congratulations,"  said  a  tall,  good-looking  young 
man,  to  whom  he  had  just  been  introduced,  and 
who  was  dressed  with  exquisite  taste.  "Do  you 
remember  Miss  Eleanor  Lyttleton,  whom  you  met 
several  times  in  New  York?  She  has  been  de- 
vouring the  newspapers  of  late  with  reference  to 
a  certain  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Temple,  and 


A  KING  AMONG  LIONS  211 

•was,  of  course,  delighted  when  she  read  your 
name  as  the  successful  candidate  for  M  —  's  seat 
in  the  Senate.  Do  you  remember  her  ?  " 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  said  Temple. 

"  She  expects  you  to  call,"  resumed  the  young 
man.  "Perhaps  you'll  come  to  her  'tea'  to-mor- 
row. Pray,  say  yes.  Eleanor  is  a  great  lion- 
lover,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  wishes  "  — 

"  To  have  the  first  look  at  the  beast  ?  "  interro- 
gated Temple,  laughing. 

"  The  royal  beast,"  the  other  replied,  "  whose 
success  has  made  him  the  king  among  lions. 
What  shall  I  tell  her?" 

"  Say  to  your  sister,  Miss  Eleanor,  that  I  accept 
her  invitation  with  great  pleasure,  and  shall  avail 
myself  of  the  opportunity  to  take  tea  with  her, 
to-morrow,"  said  the  lion. 

"  I  am  sure  she  will  be  delighted,"  was  the  re- 
sponse. "  And  now  about  the  election.  It's  a 
tremendous  honor,  at  your  age.  Very  little  politi- 
cal backing  too ;  nothing  very  extravagant  in  the 
way  of  money.  It  shows  in  what  high  estimation 
your  hosts  of  friends  hold  you." 

"  To  whom  I  shall  hope  in  due  time  to  make 
my  acknowledgments,"  said  Temple,  as  his  friends 
led  the  way  to  the  dining-room. 

The  dinner  through,  speeches  and  toasts  were  in 
order.  Many  bright  sayings  were  evolved  through 


212  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

the  mist  of  smoke  and  the  fumes  of  wine.  Around 
Andrew  Temple's  plate  were  grouped  five  or  six 
wineglasses,  which  he  had  not  allowed  to  be 
turned  up.  They  all  knew,  convivial  as  they 
were,  that  their  senator  never  touched  wine,  but 
they  also  knew  that  he  never  interfered  with  the 
likes  and  dislikes  of  his  friends. 

He  was  conversing  with  his  new  acquaintance, 
when  the  latter  happened  to  mention  the  name  of 
Arthur  Prince. 

"  Do  you  mean  Prince  of  Fairstock  ? "  asked 
Temple.  "  I  left  him  only  a  day  or  two  ago." 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  Have  you  been  there  ?  " 
the  young  man  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  know  the  family  very  well,"  Andrew 
replied,  a  thrill  of  something  besides  remembrance 
running  through  his  frame,  while,  with  a  quick 
shock  of  happiness,  he  thought  of  Daisy. 

"  Then  you  have  met  my  cousin  Daisy  ?  "  was 
young  Lyttleton's  rejoinder. 

"  Your  cousin  !  "  It  was  Temple's  turn  to  be 
astonished.  He  caught  his  breath  as  he  spoke. 

"  My  cousin.  Occasionally  my  sister  writes  to 
her,  and  we  have  been  very  anxious  to  have  a  visit 
from  her.  At  least  my  sister  has.  All  girls  are 
bores  to  me,"  he  added  languidly. 

Bores  —  Daisy  a  bore  !  Temple  sat  for  a  mo- 
ment like  one  dazed.  He  had  met  Eleanor  Lyttle 


THE  LIKENESS  213 

ton  at  tlie  house  of  some  New  York  friends.  Her 
brother  he  had  never  seen  till  now ;  but  he  liked 
him,  though  Everard  amused  him  with  his  affecta- 
tions. Eleanor,  he  remembered,  though  a  society 
belle,  had  sweet,  womanly  ways  ;  and  now  it  came 
to  him  that  the  cousins  were  not  unlike.  Eleanor 
was  a  trifle  taller  and  much  statelier  than  Daisy, 
and,  having  been  out  some  two  or  three  seasons, 
had  acquired  a  marvellous  manner,  and  a  fluency 
of  speech  that  made  her  seem  older  than  her  years. 
Yet  they  had  the  same  blue  eyes,  the  same  delicacy 
of  feature,  the  same  outline  of  figure.  At  once 
he  was  anxious  to  meet  the  cousin  of  his  beloved ; 
and,  as  soon  as  he  could  in  courtesy,  he  took  leave 
of  his  company,  and  retired  to  the  privacy  of  his 
room,  there  to  reflect  upon  this,  to  him,  exceptional 
news,  and  get  some  little  rest  to  fortify  him  for 
what  the  morrow  had  in  store. 

Lyttleton  left  him  at  the  door  of  his  room, 
promising  to  call  for  him  in  time  on  the  following 
day. 


214  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

COUSIN  ELEANOK. 

MOTHER  and  step-daughter  sat  together  in  the 
sitting-room  of  one  of  the  finest  and  costliest 
houses  in  Washington.  There  was  but  the  differ- 
ence of  ten  years  between  the  two  women,  Eleanor 
being  but  twenty-one,  though  she  seemed  older 
than  her  years.  By  strangers  they  were  generally 
taken  for  sisters  ;  and,  indeed,  they  did  not  look 
unlike. 

Five  years  after  the  death  of  his  first  wife, 
Banker  Lyttleton  married  the  niece  of  an  ex- 
governor  of  one  of  the  Eastern  States,  a  very 
beautiful  girl  of  twenty.  She  proved  to  be  an 
excellent  wife,  and  made  herself  so  attractive  that 
she  soon  won  the  hearts  of  his  two  children.  A 
woman  of  the  world,  she  was  fond  of  society, 
trained  in  all  its  exactions  and  requirements,  of 
fine  tact,  perfect  manners,  and  always  dressed 
with  exquisite  taste. 

Tall  and  stately,  with  a  sweet,  low  voice,  quick 
to  divine  the  thoughts  of  others,  she  had  been  an 


A   GOOD   MANAGER  215 

invaluable  aid  to  Eleanor,  who  was  guided  b}^  her 
in  all  things.  With  a  shrewdness  that  did  her 
credit,  she  managed  both  the  brother  and  sister, 
bringing  them  always  to  her  way  of  thinking, 
without  coercion,  whatever  their  previous  opinions 
might  have  been. 

The  room  in  which  they  sat  was  rich  with  lus- 
trous hangings,  the  gleam  of  statuary,  pictures 
and  bric-d-brac.  All  that  could  make  a  wealthy 
banker's  home  attractive  was  there,  and  the  fault- 
less taste  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  left  nothing 
in  its  arrangements  to  be  desired. 

"  Mr.  Temple  has  accepted  our  invitation  to 
tea.  Only  think,  we  shall  have  him  here  first !  " 
said  Eleanor,  as  she  comfortably  established  her 
feet  on  a  low  ottoman,  and  took  from  the  dainty 
silken  bag  on  her  arm  some  fleecy  wool-work  with 
which  her  slim  white  fingers  were  soon  busily 
engaged. 

"  I  shall  like  to  meet  him,"  Mrs.  Lyttleton  made 
quiet  reply.  "  You  know  he  is  an  utter  stranger 
to  me.  Where  did  you  first  become  acquainted 
with  him,  Eleanor?  " 

She  laid  her  book  down  as  she  spoke,  and  turned 
her  head  and  her  finely  outlined  throat,  that  was 
one  of  her  greatest  attractions,  as  she  looked 
towards  Eleanor. 

"  In  New  York,  at  cousin  Harry  Lind's.     I  saw 


216  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

him  then,  several  times  ;  but  he  was  only  a  rising 
man,  though  thought  to  be  famous  in  his  profes- 
sion, I  believe.  He  is  not  a  lady's  man  in  any 
sense  of  the  word,  but  he  was  quite  attentive  to 
me." 

"However  insignificant  or  crude  he  might 
appear,"  said  Mrs.  Lyttleton,  "  to  the  world  at 
large,  remember  that  now  he  is  a  United  States 
Senator.  Such  men  are  worth  knowing." 

"Oh!  I'm  not  likely  to  forget  it,"  laughed 
Eleanor,  changing  her  position  with  easy  grace, 
"  but  he  never  was  insignificant.  On  the  contrary, 
he  is  one  of  the  handsomest  and  most  distinguished- 
looking  men  in  New  York.  Everard  would  add, 
'slightly  sardonic  in  his  beauty.'  No  man  ever 
looks  the  worse  in  my  eyes  for  that." 

"  How  old  is  he  ?  "  asked  her  step-mother. 

"  Everard  says  he  will  be  the  youngest  man  in 
the  Senate.  Just  turned  thirty-five  or  thirty-six,  I 
think." 

"  So  young !  I  imagined  him  about  fifty,"  her 
step-mother  said,  much  surprised.  "  Young,  hand- 
some, and  an  Honorable !  Well,  you  know  I  think 
the  one  necessary  thing  in  life  for  a  young  girl  is 
to  make  a  good  match.  I  wonder  if  the  senator  is 
fancy  free  ?  " 

Eleanor  blushed  a  little.  To  tell  the  truth,  she 
was  just  asking  herself  that  same  question.  To 


RATHER  A   FREE-THINKER  217 

cover  the  slight  confusion  caused  by  this  thought, 
she  bent  herself  more  diligently  to  her  work. 

"  I  think  I  heard  once  that  he  was  a  sort  of  wo- 
man-hater," she  said,  counting  the  stitches.  "  Do 
you  know  he  has  been  stopping  in  Fairstock  for 
some  time,  and  is  well  acquainted  with  uncle  Arthur 
and  cousin  Daisy?  How  I  wish  uncle  Arthur 
could  be  called  here  !  it  would  just  suit  him !  I 
have  heard  people  who  know  him  say  that  he  was, 
at  the  least,  a  ten-thousand-dollar  clergyman  thrown 
away  upon  a  three-thousand-dollar  parish.  I  know 
he  has  splendid  gifts." 

"  Did  your  cousin  Daisy  never  mention  this  Mr. 
Temple?"  asked  Mrs.  Lyttleton. 

"  I  don't  remember  that  she  did.  Oh,  yes ! " 
laughing  a  little,  showing  superb  white  teeth, 
"  she  did  speak  once  of  a  celebrated  infidel  who 
came  sometimes  to  the  parsonage.  That  must 
have  been  Mr.  Temple,  come  to  think  of  it.  He 
is  rather  a  free-thinker,  I  suspect;  and  Daisy, 
brought  up  in  the  seclusion  of  a  country  town 
and  a  minister's  home,  must  have,  naturally,  a 
horror  of  such  a  character.  Poor  little  Daisy! 
I  haven't  seen  her  since  I  was  sixteen  years  old, 
and  what  a  prim  little  piece  she  was !  quite  aston- 
ished because  I  didn't  study  Latin,  I  remember." 

"  Is  she  pretty  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Lyttleton. 

"  Well,  yes,  after  a  rural   style,  —  fresh  color, 


218        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

very  large  blue  eyes,  and  no  kind  of  figure.  So 
very  prim,  too,  I  remember,  though  she  may  have 
outgrown  that.  I  think  she  has  some  talent.  She 
sings  rather  well,  I  have  heard.  In  her  last  letter 
she  speaks  of  longing  to  come  here,  but  finds  it 
inconvenient.  I  suspect  the  child  has  no  dresses 
fit  to  wear,  and  she  is  too  proud  to  let  us  get  them 
for  her." 

A  maid  entered  softly  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room  bringing  a  letter,  which  she  offered  on  a 
silver  tray  to  Eleanor. 

"Speaking  of  angels,"  said  Eleanor,  smiling, 
"this  is  from  Daisy.  I  will  read  it,  if  you  will 
excuse  me." 

The  well-trained  maid  had  gone  as  softly  from 
the  room  as  she  had  entered.  Mrs.  Lyttleton 
looked — not  out  of  the  window;  it  was  too 
heavily  draped  for  that  —  but  at  it,  busily  thinking. 
Why  should  not  Eleanor  marry  a  senator  ? 

"  Oh ! "  and  Eleanor,  with  this  exclamation,  let  the 
hand  that  held  the  dainty  missive  drop  in  her  lap. 
uHow  splendid!"  she  resumed,  looking  up  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "  Daisy  has  had  some  money  left 
her,  quite  a  little  fortune  to  a  girl  situated  as  she 
is.  And  now  she  says  she  looks  forward  to  paying 
me  a  visit.  How  glad  I  am !  I  hope  she  will 
have  her  dresses  made  in  New  York.  It  would 
not  be  amiss  to  give  her  a  hint.  It  will  be  some- 


A  LITTLE  COUNTRY  GIRL  219 

thing  of  a  task,  though  a  pleasant  one,  to  form 
and  fit  her  for  society.  Of  course  she  is  very  nice 
and  all  that,  and  a  season  in  Washington  will  do 
more  for  her  than  anything  else  could.  I  shall 
write  her,  directly,  to  come  as  soon  as  she  can." 

"I  don't  think  I  should  be  in  a  hurry,"  her 
step-mother  said.  "  How  do  you  know  but  that 
she  might  be  —  well,  rather  in  the  way  ?  " 

Eleanor  looked  her  surprise. 

"  A  little  country  girl !  "  she  said,  divining  her 
mother's  meaning,  "  who  if  not  plain,  and  I  think 
she  must  be  rather  pretty,  is  not  at  all  formed. 
I  only  hope  she  may  make  a  good  match.  Don't 
worry,  mamma  mine ;  there's  nothing  at  all  effec- 
tive about  her,  nothing  that  would  please  a  man 
as  mature  as  Mr.  Temple;  and  I  suppose  you 
mean  him.  I  am  afraid  you  are  incorrigible  as  a 
match-maker,  mamma." 

u  I  must  confess  I  wish  to  see  you  well  married  ; 
and  if  this  Temple  is  not  ill-looking,  in  fact,  is 
handsome,  as  you  say,  I  should  be  only  too  glad 
to  have  him  for  a  son-in-law." 

"  I  don't  know  as  he  has  ever  thought  of  me  since 
the  last  time  we  rode  together  in  the  park,  and 
I'm  sure  I  have  thought  very  little  about  him," 
she  added,  with  a  slight  blush.  "  There,  it  re- 
minds me:  Byron,  had  he  been  tall,  might  have 
looked  like  Mr.  Temple." 


220  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Indeed !  then  he  is  distinguished  in  appear- 
ance." 

"  That  is  the  word,"  said  Eleanor,  leaning  back, 
holding  the  letter  with  languid  grace.  "  I  am  so 
glad  my  cousin  is  coming  !  Do  you  know,  I  think 
she  will  amuse  Everard  ?  He  needs  a  companion, 
since  he  is  such  a  cynic ;  and  he  can  escort  his 
cousin  anywhere  ;  no  remarks  will  be  made.  She 
shall  have  a  good  time,  though  I  may  be  obliged 
to  apologize  for  her  sometimes." 

Then  the  two  women  discussed  which  room 
should  be  appropriated  to  Daisy's  use  ;  and 
Eleanor  pleased  herself  with  fancies  of  all  she 
would  do  to  form  and  to  introduce  her  cousin 
to  her  own  circle. 


A  VISION  OF  LOVELINESS  221 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE  NEW  SENATOR  MEETS  ELEANOR. 

FROM  five  to  eight  were  the  words  that  con- 
veyed to  the  initiated  and  invited  hundreds  that 
they  were  expected  guests  at  Mrs.  and  Miss  Lyttle- 
ton's  "  tea." 

At  five  exactly,  having  had  his  instructions, 
Everard  Lyttleton,  scrupulously  attired,  as  was 
his  wont,  made  his  appearance  on  the  scene  with 
his  friend.  The  guests  had  not  yet  begun  to 
arrive,  so  that  for  a  few  moments  Eleanor  had  the 
expected  visitor  all  to  herself. 

Standing  on  a  snow-white  wool  rug,  near  the 
low,  elaborately  carved  mantelpiece,  she  presented 
a  vision  of  loveliness  such  as  had  seldom  delighted 
his  eyes.  Her  dress  was  a  pale  pink  covered  with 
black  lace,  and  looped  with  delicate  pink  buds,  — 
a  costume,  with  all  its  elaborateness  of  detail,  so 
simple  in  appearance,  and  so  becoming  to  the  style 
of  its  wearer,  that  it  pleased  the  eyes  without  in 
any  way  offending  the  taste. 

One  of  Washington's  most  regal  beauties,  she 


222         IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

knew  how  to  take  the  imagination  captive,  if  not 
the  heart.  Instinctively  he  looked  for  a  likeness 
to  the  little  girl  whose  sweet  face  was  shrined  in 
his  heart  like  a  holy  thing.  He  found  it  in  the 
eyes  and  the  lips.  Elsewhere  it  was  wanting. 
This  girl  had  an  air  of  repose  that  set  him  at  his 
ease  at  once,  and  yet,  in  some  unaccountable  way, 
did  not  please  him.  Her  eyes  looked  frankly  in 
his  own ;  whereas,  in  his  wild-wood  flower,  as  he 
mentally  called  Daisy,  they  had  a  trick  of  falling 
beneath  a  too  intense  gaze,  that  added  to  their 
beauty,  and  allowed  the  long  lashes  to  sweep  the 
cheeks. 

Society  had  made  Eleanor  outwardly  a  finished 
piece  of  human  mechanism.  Not  a  bow  was  tied, 
not  an  ornament  added,  that  she  did  not  patiently 
and  often  study  every  little  detail.  Her  laugh 
was  low  and  pleasant.  Nothing  could  be  more 
beautiful  than  the  arrangement  of  her  hair,  yet,  like 
her  dress,  it  was  elaborate,  and  done  up  by  a  first-rate 
artist.  Yet  he  could  not  but  feel  that  the  effect  she 
produced  on  him  was  bewildering.  He  also  found 
unusual  pleasure  in  her  conversation,  always  look- 
ing in  her  eyes,  that  seemed  to  him  mirrors  in 
which  Daisy's  bright  smiles  were  reproduced. 
Daisy's  deep,  dancing,  satisfying  dimples  were 
wanting;  and  though  not  so  enthusiastic  as  the 
man  who  declared  that  he  could  follow  a  dimple 


KING  OF  HIS  CONSCIENCE  223 

to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  yet,  if  he  had  a  weakness, 
it  was  for  dimples  in  a  woman's  cheek. 

Daisy's  were  always  there,  little  points  of  laugh- 
ter that  made  her  face  at  all  times  idyllic. 

"  She  is  utterly  charming,  this  girl,"  he  said  to 
himself,  more  than  once ;  "  and  yet  I  should  not 
wish  to  see  Daisy  like  her,  a  finished  woman  of 
the  world,  at  twenty.  No,  rather  my  sweet  wild- 
flower,  with  a  few  social  faults  to  be  rectified,  a 
blush  now  and  then,  and  an  eye  not  quite  so 
steady." 

"  I  do  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart," 
Eleanor  said,  in  an  answer  to  a  remark  he  made  con- 
cerning his  present  visit  to  Washington.  "And 
yo'u  have  just  come  from  my  cousin,  too,  Everard 
tells  me.  How  glad  I  am  that  we  have  a  few 
moments  to  ourselves  to  talk  about  it!  I  know 
what  your  opinion  is  of  my  uncle  Arthur.  To 
me  he  always  seemed  a  perfect  clergyman,  as  he 
was  a  kind  and  loving  uncle." 

"  Mr.  Prince  is  one  man  in  a  thousand,"  said 
Temple.  "  He  does  manly  things.  That  is  why 
I  like  him  so  much.  To  me  he  is  a  model  of  all 
the  virtues,  with  a  sparse  sprinkling  of  weaknesses. 
He  smokes  when  he  likes,  and  is  not  above  a  good 
joke  when  it  suits  his  humor.  He  is  a  good  man, 
a  thoroughly  good  man,  the  king,  not  the  slave,  of 
his  conscience." 


224  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE   WILL 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  her  eyes  sparkling,  her 
face  more  than  brilliant  in  its  beauty.  "  I  think 
I  should  quite  adore  him  if  I  saw  him  often.  I 
know  my  own  mother  often  said  that  to  her  he 
was  a  veritable  sunbeam.  How  fond  she  was  of 
her  '  bonny  brother,'  as  she  often  called  him !  And 
now  about  Daisy.  You  must  tell  me  just  how  she 
looks,"  she  added,  lifting  her  beautiful  arm  as  she 
carelessly  swayed  the  fan  of  white  ostrich  feathers 
that  hung  at  her  side. 

A  tremor  passed  over  his  face,  which  she  did 
not  happen  to  see,  as  at  that  moment  she  turned 
in  the  direction  of  a  sound  of  clinking  glass  or 
china  in  the  next  room,  where  there  were  some 
rare  Sevres  of  which  she  was  very  proud ;  and  then 
a  light  came  into  his  dark  eyes  that  transfixed  her 
glance  as  she  looked  back  into  them  again. 

"I  did  not  dream  he  was  half  so  handsome," 
she  said  to  herself  with  a  few  wild  heart-throbs,  but 
never  thought  of  the  illumination  in  connection 
with  her  cousin.  She  was  so  sure  of  herself,  her 
grace,  her  beauty,  her  power  of  charming.  The 
one  vulnerable  point  in  her  otherwise  flawless  char- 
acter, was  a  weakness  akin  to  vanity ;  and  even 
that  was  tempered  with  a  noble  self-forge tfulness, 
at  times,  that  robbed  it  of  half  its  danger. 

"  Miss  Daisy  is  something  like  you,"  were  the 
few  commonplace  words  he  said  in  reply ;  but  no 


UNEXPECTED  NEWS  225 

one  could  see  how  his  heart  was  beating,  or  that 
the  passion  of  his  love  welled  up  till  he  almost 
thought  it  would  smother  him. 

"Indeed!  in  what  way,  I  wonder?  I  always 
thought  she  would  be  rather  petite"  the  girl  said, 
toying  with  her  fan,  with  fingers  as  shapely  and 
white  as  Daisy's  own. 

"  She  has  not  your  stature ;  but  her  eyes  are 
blue,  and  her  hair  is  the  color  of  yours,"  he  added, 
his  eyes  roving  over  her  lovely  head. 

"  She  was  such  a  pretty  little  thing  four  years  ago 
when  she  was  only  fourteen  and  I  sixteen.  Is  she 
still  as  prim  and  religious  as  she  was,  I  wonder? 
Do  you  know,  I  had  a  letter  from  her  to-day,  and 
she  is  coming  to  visit  me  ?  " 

He  caught  his  breath.  He  could  have  knelt 
and  kissed  the  hem  of  her  garment  for  this  unex- 
pected news.  The  halo  of  his  love  seemed  to 
inwrap  her,  so  intent  was  his  glance  ;  and  Eleanor, 
for  a  moment,  felt  a  new  triumph,  and  a  sensation, 
that,  had  she  been  by  herself,  she  would  have 
struggled  against. 

No  one  could  see  how  this  momentary  feeling 
shook  her,  nor  in  his  case  how  the  mere  mention 
of  Daisy's  coming  had  set  all  his  pulses  flying, 
quiet  and  unconcerned  as  he  looked. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  much  about  her  accomplish- 
ments," he  said,  in  a  slow  way.  "  I  only  know 


226  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

that  she  has  a  very  superior  voice,  which,  with 
proper  cultivation,  would  be  second  to  none.  That 
she  is  zealous  in  church-work,  I  know.  She  sings 
the  service  divinely." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  but  his  face  was  untrans- 
latable, though  it  seemed  to  her  she  detected  a 
something  in  his  voice  that  puzzled  her. 

"  We  will  go  into  the  tea-room.  Our  friends 
are  coming,  and  I  am  neglecting  them,"  she  said, 
conscious  that  with  every  look  and  word  of  the 
man  before  her,  her  heart  went  out  to  him,  and 
half-angry  with  herself  that  it  did.  "  Let  me  make 
you  acquainted  with  my  mother.  Mamma,  this  is 
the  Honorable  Andrew  Temple,  our  new  senator," 
she  said  as  they  entered  the  room  where  Mrs. 
Lyttleton  was  receiving  her  guests. 

"  Ah !  I  see  now,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  perfect 
woman  number  two,  more  beautiful  even  than 
her  step-daughter,  came  forward  with  polite  phrases 
and  extended  hand,  "  this  woman  has  been  her 
teacher." 

And  now  the  work  of  the  hour,  or  hours,  began. 
Introductions  followed  close  upon  each  other. 
Bewildering  costumes,  delicate  perfumes,  beauty 
of  every  description,  passed  in  array  before  the 
new-comer,  who  kept  up  conversation  as  he  was 
permitted  with  Eleanor's  brother.  Everard  Lyttle- 
ton acted,  if  lie  did  not  feel  it,  the  bored  and  list- 
less man  of  the  world  to  perfection. 


OVER  AND  OVER  227 

"  I  hate  this  kind  of  thing,  you  know,"  he 
murmured  in  an  aside  to  Temple  ;  "  have  to  sub- 
mit to  it,  of  course.  Same  thing  over  and  over  : 
lunch,  lunch-call ;  tea,  tea-call ;  dinner,  dinner- 
call  ;  german,  favors,  and  more  calls,  cards  ad 
libitum,  pretty  girls,  clever  women,  and  all  that, 
but  the  same  faces  over  and  over." 

The  scene  was  now  decidedly  exciting  as  well  as 
picturesque.  The  spacious  apartment  was  a  picture 
in  itself,  with  its  decorations  of  blue  and  gold. 
Little  tables  dotted  the  long  length  of  the  polished 
floors,  all  tastefully  set  with  silver  and  the  costliest 
china.  Here  tea,  coffee,  bouillon,  were  wildly 
darting  about  in  the  hands  of  sable  attendants, 
whose  black,  shining  faces  contrasted  well  with  the 
bright  little  caps  and  kerchiefs  that  topped  their 
woolly  craniums ;  while  solemn  waiters  in  dress- 
coats  handed  the  cold  meats,  croquettes,  and  rich 
cakes. 

Some  of  the  callers  were  sitting,  some  standing ; 
and  a  weird  hum,  like  the  monotone  of  the  sombre 
woods  on  a  wind-shaken  day,  filled  the  great  room. 
Senators'  and  members'  wives,  women  well  known 
in  the  world  of  fashion,  authors,  scribblers,  pencil 
in  hand,  soliciting  with  an  anxiety  begotten  of 
their  poor  memories  and  poorer  salaries,  were 
soliciting  the  names  of  the  best-dressed  guests, 
and  begging  for  enlightenment  on  style,  color,  and 
material. 


228  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

Fun  was  rife  now  among  the  younger  part  of 
the  company.  Others  were  comparing  notes  as  to 
their  society  defeats  or  successes :  in  general,  all 
looked  happy.  Wherever  Temple  appeared,  a  sen- 
sation followed. 

'.'  Isn't  he  handsome  ?  "  "  How  interesting  !  " 
"  Who  is  he?  "  were  questions  asked  and  answered. 
In  the  course  of  an  hour  everybody  knew  that  he 
was  the  lately  elected  senator.  Then  ensued  con- 
tention and  rivalry  worthy  the  pencil  of  a  Hogarth. 
One  beautiful  girl  in  blue  volunteered  to  refresh 
him  with  tea.  Another  offered  cake ;  until,  sur- 
rounded, almost  frightened,  by  this  bevy  of  lovely 
and  fashionable  women,  Temple  prayed  to  be 
delivered.  Fortunately  at  that  moment  he  looked 
up  and  saw  Eleanor,  who,  with  a  motion  of  calm 
if  not  proud  superiority,  smiled  as  she  said,  putting 
her  gloved  hand  on  his  arm,  — 

"  There  will  be  some  singing  presently,  in  the 
music-room.  Won't  you  take  me  there  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  he  said. 

The  music-room  was  comparatively  empty,  but 
it  was  large  and  cool,  and  furnished  with  reference 
to  its  uses. 

There  were  stands  for  violin  and  other  stringed 
instruments :  an  immense  music-box  stood  upon 
two  ebony  columns.  In  the  far  corner  gleamed 
the  gilt  frame  of  a  harp.  An  alcove,  brightened 


A  SUDDEN  RAPTURE  '  229 

by  the  glittering  pipes  of  an  organ,  faced  the 
great  bay-window.  Two  pianos,  one"  a  handsome 
square,  the  other  a  grand,  stood  along  the  sides  of 
the  apartment.  The  ceiling  was  thirty  feet  in 
height,  and  capped  by  a  beautiful  dome  in  colored 
glass. 

"  What  a  splendid  room  !  "  burst  from  Temple's 
lips,  as  they  paused,  while  the  accompanist  took 
his  seat,  and  the  singer,  a  woman  well  known  in 
musical  circles,  lifted  her  music  with  jewelled 
fingers,  and  prepared  to  sing.  The  hush  of  ex- 
pectancy succeeded,  and  then  came  a  flood  of 
melody  that  thrilled  every  heart  there. 

Eleanor  looked  up  at  her  companion,  conscious 
of  a  sudden,  unaccountable  rapture.  Through  all 
the  forced  calm  of  conventionalism,  the  music  had 
penetrated,  and  taken  her  inmost  soul  by  storm. 
And  when  her  escort  gravely  smiled  down  at  her, 
—  those  who  smile  seldom,  smile  sweetest,  — 
thinking  all  the  time  of  Daisy  and  her  fresh 
young  voice,  so  superior  in  all  but  training,  she 
took  the  smile  to  herself,  and  said,  — 

"  What  depth  in  his  eyes !  How  unlike  in 
everything  to  the  men  I  have  been  accustomed  to 
meet !  And  surely,  he  does  not  look  at  all  women 
that  way !  " 

At  the  close  of  the  evening's  festivity,  Eleanor 
went  up  the  broad,  well-lighted  stairway  another 


230  it  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

woman  from  the  one  who  came  down  in  the  morning. 
A  different  set  of  thoughts,  of  reflections,  question- 
ings, crossed  the  threshold  of  her  consciousness. 

"Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not?"  she  asked  herself, 
standing  before  the  broad  mirror  that  reflected 
back  the  splendor  of  upholstery,  the  delicacy  and 
freshness  of  the  tinted  walls  and  painted  ceiling. 
"Shall  I,  or  shall  I  not?" 

She  took  the  rings  from  her  ringers  one  by  one, 
and  laid  them  on  the  cushions  of  satin,  ready  for 
her  maid  to  put  them  away.  Then  followed  neck- 
lace, diamond  pin,  bracelets,  before  she  had  an- 
swered the  question,  and  all  that  time  she  was 
studying  the  glass. 

"  Some  say  I  am  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
Washington,"  she  whispered,  "  and  I  am  beautiful. 
Shall  I  try  ?  Need  I  try  to  captivate  this  strangely 
fascinating  man  ?  Have  I  the  power?  He  will 
come  again  —  he  said  he  would.  He  turned  with 
a  parting  smile  after  he  had  said  good-night.  The 
wife  of  a  senator !  It  sounds  well.  It  is  worth 
the  thought.  Few  men  meet  me  who  do  not  pro- 
fess to  love  me,  but  I  have  never  before  "  —  she 
paused,  holding  both  hands  tightly  against  her  hot 
face,  —  "I  mean,"  she  added,  "  my  fancy  has 
never  before  been  captured  by  any  of  my  numer- 
ous admirers.  Well,  I  will  leave  it.  What  is  to 
be,  will  be." 


HAPPY  DREAMS  231 

"  Dear,  are  you  up  ? "  asked  her  mother,  and 
put  aside  the  blue  silk  portieres.  "  Oh !  not  gone 
to  bed  yet?  Your  father  has  a  headache,  and  I 
came  for  your  salts.  My  bottle  is  broken.  Thank 
you,"  she  said,  smiling,  as  the  article,  a  gold- 
chased  vinaigrette,  was  handed  to  her.  "  I  think, 
love,  the  siege  was  inaugurated  to-night,"  she  said, 
with  an  arch  smile.  "  Wish  you  success.  He  is 
admirable  —  such  shoulders !  And  his  face  is 
nearly  perfect.  What  is  the  expression?  He 
must  have  had  some  deep  experience.  All  these 
—  what  shall  I  say  ? —  Byronic-looking  men,  have. 
Good-night,  my  dear  —  and  dreams  —  well,  of  the 
Senate  ; "  and  she  laughingly  disappeared. 


232  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

DAISY  HEARS   THE   NEWS. 

THE  twins  were  slightly  indisposed ;  and  before 
the  rectory  gate  stood  the  doctor's  old  chaise 
with  Dolly  in  the  shafts,  as  fat  and  sleek  and  lazy 
as  ever. 

Inside,  in  the  study,  his  gold-headed  cane  in 
one  hand  and  an  immense  red  silk  handkerchief  in 
the  other,  the  doctor  was  talking  to  Daisy. 

The  room  wore  its  usual  cosily  cheerful  aspect, 
though  the  sky  had  been  gray  and  gloomy  for  the 
past  few  days,  and  rain  was  threatening.  A  fire 
sent  bright  reflections  over  the  oaken  panels,  and 
made  red  pictures  everywhere  within  the  compass 
of  its  cheerful  rays. 

"  Very  sympathetic,"  he  was  saying  to  Daisy. 
"  If  one  of  these  little  fellows  gets  hurt,  the 
other  cries,  don't  he  ?  Thought  so.  Symptoms 
exactly  alike.  Let  me  tell  you  that  the  bond 
between  them  is  rather  unusual.  De  mm  ing's  twins, 
—  you  know  Demming,  the  carpenter,  don't  you? 
Well,  he  has  twins,  girls ;  and  one  of  them  is  a 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE  233 

sickly,  spindling  thing,  while  the  other  is  fine  and 
healthy.  No  special  compact  between  them,  I  can 
tell  you.  I've  seen  one  lying  at  Death's  door,  and 
the  other  playing  by  itself  in  the  garden,  as  utterly 
oblivious  to  all  sense  of  feeling  in  the  matter,  as 
though  she  was  made  of  wood.  I  hope  the  babies 
here  will  get  through  without  any  dangerous  ill- 
ness; for,  upon  my  word,  I  must  save  both  or 
neither.  It's  a  curious  question  whether  the  larger 
culture  of  the  parents,  the  finer  sympathy  between 
them,  makes  the  difference.  The  Demmings  are 
rather  a  coarse  lot  —  good  people  as  ever  were, 
but  "  —  he  paused  significantly.  "  Well,  "  he 
began  again,  as  Daisy  went  on  with  her  sewing, 
"  Rush  Severn  has  gone  away,  hasn't  he  ?  And 
so  has  that  high-bred  infidel,  whose  long  legs 
carried  him  safely  over  that  chasm  at  the  old  mill. 
Oh !  I've  heard  all  that  story.  Have  you  sent 
them  both  off  ?  "  and  the  blunt  old  doctor  looked 
hard  in  her  face. 

"  I  sent  neither  of  them  off,"  said  Daisy  with 
some  spirit,  the  rose-pink  deepening  in  her  cheeks. 
"  Pray,  why  should  you  think  so  ?  " 

"You  must  pardon  an  old  fellow  like  myself 
for  saying  that  doctors  see  beneath  the  surface  of 
things.  Under  all  these  muscles  and  tissues  and 
nerves,  there  are  hearts,  my  dear  Miss  Daisy. 
Sometimes  I  verily  believe  I've  got  one  myself, 


234  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

particularly  when  in  the  presence  of  some  young 
ladies  I,  know  of.  There,  there  —  you  know  I'm 
rough-spoken.  I  hope  you  are  not  going  to  be 
angry  with  a  man  old  enough  to  be  your  grand- 
father, because  a  pretty  face  has  the  power  to  move 
him.  No,  no,  rather  blame  the  magic  that  sets 
all  men  to  loving  sooner  or  later.  By  the  way, 
I  have  some  news  for  you,  so  clear  your  blue  eyes. 
Your  infidel,  free-thinker,  or  whatever  you  will,  — 
in  other  words,  the  Honorable  Mr.  Temple,  —  is 
to-day  a  senator  of  the  United  States." 

Daisy  rose,  and  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  her 
cheeks  going  from  red  to  white.  So  this  was  the 
business  of  "great  importance"  that  called  him  to 
Washington  ! 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  Of  course  he 
never  spoke  of  the  honor  that  might  be  in  store 
for  him  ?  Too  wise ;  too  modest.  Why,  he  is 
the  '  most  modestest  man  I  ever  met,'  as  little 
Jerry  Tompkins  said  of  his  bird.  '  Doctor,'  says 
he,  '  I  watch  and  watch,  but  Dicky  won't  let  me 
see  him  bathe.  He's  the  most  modestest  bird  I 
ever  knew.'  Here  was  this  man  walking  in  and 
out  among  us,  all  the  time  the  recipient  of  high 
honors  in  every  way,  and  yet  I'll  bet  my  two 
bantam  roosters  he  never  mentioned  it." 

"  Never  to  me,  never  to  my  brother,"  Daisy 
said,  exultantly.  Pride  at  this  new  token  of 
Temple's  worth,  made  her  a  little  dizzy. 


A  GRAND  CHARACTER  235 

"  Never  to  anybody,  I'll  wager.  And  here 
comes  the  rector  himself.  Well,  sir,  the  twins  are 
doing  finely,"  he  said,  addressing  his  clergyman. 
"I  left  one  crowing,  the  other  laughing.  Tell 
your  wife  to  shed  as  few  unnecessary  tears  as 
possible.  You  have  heard  the  news  about  Temple, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  and  the  rector's  glance  went  half  fur- 
tively towards  Daisy.  The  doctor  saw  it  and 
chuckled  to  himself.  "  He  is  now  in  the  Senate, 
it  seems,  the  youngest  man  there.  Big  honor  for 
Temple  —  a  grand  character,  that  man  !  He  has 
kept  the  thing  secret  from  the  beginning.  Most 
men  would  have  gabbled." 

"  Yes,  gabbling  men,"  said  the  doctor,  rising, 
and  using  his  handkerchief  sonorously.  "  I  was 
wishing  Miss  Daisy,  here,  joy  —  that  is,  did  I  wish 
you  joy,  my  dear  Miss  Daisy  ?  or  was  it  merely  in 
my  mind,  I  wonder?  I'm  rather  forgetful  at 
times,  sure  sign  of  coming  old  age  ;"  and  laughing 
to  himself  he  went  out,  shrugging  his  shoulders. 

"  Well,  Daisy,"  said  her  brother,  "  I  congratulate 
you.  And  yet  it's  curious ;  my  little  sister  the 
wife  of  a  senator  —  if  it  should  be.  Not  that 
you're  not  worthy  of  it,  my  darling,"  for  Daisy 
had  come  forward,  and  now  stood  with  her  face 
hidden  on  his  shoulder. 

"  I'm  —  very  proud  of  him,"  she  murmured. 


236  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

"  Of  course  you  are ;  so  am  I  —  so  must  all  his 
friends  feel,  for  I  am  quite  sure  that  in  this  case 
it  is  the  office  seeking  the  man.  Well,  I  suppose 
I  shall  have  to  give  you  up  to  him.  How  I  shall 
miss  you  !  Tell  me,  have  I  kept  my  promise  to 
your  dying  mother,  darling  ?  Have  I  made  you  a 
happy  home  ?  " 

"You  have  been  everything  to  me,"  said  Daisy, 
"  you  and  Mary." 

He  kissed  her  twice  on  the  forehead,  and  went 
up-stairs  to  tell  Mary  the  news. 

"  Why,  Arthur  !  "  she  said,  leaving  the  twins 
to  a  rapturous  contemplation  of  each  other's 
charms,  "  I  can't  believe  it." 

"  It's  true,  nevertheless.  Our  little  Daisy  must 
take  her  chances  in  the  great  world.  What  that 
world  will  do  to  her,  we  can  none  of  us  foresee ; 
the  dew  must  dry  on  the  blossom  when  the  sun 
rises.  I  can't  imagine  our  Daisy  a  fashionable 
woman." 

"Nothing  will  hurt  her;  nothing  can  harm 
Daisy,"  said  Mary  with  confidence.  "  With  every 
eventide  the  dew  falls  again,  you  know.  This 
new  turn  of  fortune  will  only  develop  the  latent 
abilities  that  are  sleeping  in  her  nature.  The 
finer  and  more  imposing  aspects  of  city  life  will 
bring  out  finer  points  of  character,  especially  with 
such  a  man  as  Temple  to  guide  and  shield  her. 


A  PRETTY  PICTURE  237 

For  though  I  don't  know  that  I  particularly 
admired  him,  still  he  must  be  an  exceptional 
man." 

"He  is,"  said  the  rector,  turning  smilingly  to 
the  twins. 

"  Don't  they  look  lovely  ?  "  Mary  asked,  with 
all  a  mother's  pride.  "  To-day  is  the  first  day 
they  have  seemed  like  themselves." 

The  rector  sat  down  by  the  little  double  bed 
with  its  lace  canopies,  and  presently  took  both 
children  upon  his  knees.  Daisy  came  in  from  her 
room.  She  stood  still  for  a  moment,  smiling  at 
the  pretty  picture.  There  was  a  sense  about  her 
of  something  out  of  the  common  —  something 
unreal. 

"Have  you  heard?"  she  asked  her  sister-in- 
law. 

"  Yes,  dear ;  and  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my 
heart,"  the  latter  said,  kissing  her.  "  With  one 
bound  you  will  be  at  the  head.  Imagine  our  little 
Daisy  taking  the  lead  in  Washington  society !  " 

"  Oli,  no !  that  is  not  in  me,"  said  Daisy, 
shrinking. 

"We  shall  see,"  and  Mary  laughed.  Daisy, 
still  moving  like  one  in  a  dream,  went  into  her 
room  to  dress.  She  had  made  an  engagement  to 
call  upon  Mrs.  St.  Albert  that  afternoon.  Little 
Zue  brought  her  a  letter  while  she  was  dressing. 


238  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  I  know  who  it's  from,"  she  said  with  coquettish 
glances  ;  "  it's  your  lover !  " 

"  You  bad  little  thing  !  "  Daisy  exclaimed,  really 
annoyed ;  "  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about.  Give  me  the  letter." 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  the  child  ;  "  it's  Mr.  Temple. 
He's  a  wicked  man  ;  my  mother  says  so :  "  and 
with  this  parting  shot,  she  gave  up  .the  missive, 
and  ran  down-stairs,  jealousy  tugging  at  her  heart- 
strings. 

Daisy  sat  down,  half-dressed  as  she  was,  and 
slowly  broke  the  envelope. 

"  He's  a  wicked  man  !  "  rang  in  her  ears.  Why 
should  Margy  accuse  him  in  the  presence  of  her 
child  ?  Of  course  she  had  said  it.  Zue's  quick 
ears  were  not  to  be  deceived.  A  moment  more 
and  she  was  drinking  in  eagerly  all  the  sweet 
words  penned  for  her  eye  alone,  and  had  forgotten 
the  child's  small  malice. 

"Write  me  now  and  then.  Do  not  trouble 
yourself.  I'm  deep  in  business,  but  I  shall  prob- 
ably write  six  letters  to  your  one,  as  I  shall  not 
miss  a  day  if  I  can  help  it." 

"  As  if  it  would  be  a  trouble,"  said  Daisy.  And 
yet  she  felt  a  sense  of  relief  that  he  exacted  so 
little.  She  finished  putting  on  her  wraps  and  went 
out. 

The  beauty  of  an  October  day  lay  all  around 


LETTERS !  LETTERS          239 

her.  In  spite  of  all  the  prophetic  predictions  of 
the  wiseacres,  the  weather  was  still  mild.  The 
flowers  of  a  late  autumn  still  lingered,  and  in  all 
the  sheltered  places  a  new  growth  of  crisp  green 
grass  was  springing  up.  Overhead  the  trees  had 
not  yet  lost  their  leaves,  and  still  kept  their  grace 
of  outline,  their  branches  swaying  in  the  soft, 
warm  wind.  Now  and  then  the  sun  struggled 
through  the  blue-gray  of  the  sky,  throwing  a  weird 
brightness  on  the  scene. 

With  mingled  feelings  of  pride,  tenderness,  and 
gratitude,  the  girl  walked  on  towards  the  residence 
of  her  friend.  She  found  Mrs.  St.  Albert  cheerful 
as  ever,  sorting  letters  and  papers. 

"  I'm  so  glad  you've  come,  my  dear !  Take  a 
seat  here  in  this  snug  alcove.  It's  the  place 
where  I  do  all  work  of  this  kind.  Letters  !  letters  ! 
Do  you  know,  I  get  tired  of  the  sight  of  them  ?  " 
she  went  on,  as  Daisy  snuggled  down  in  the  great 
blue  easy-chair  that  everybody  said  must  be  lined 
with  swan's-down,  it  was  so  comfortable. 

"  Now  here  is  one  from  the  tenant  of  my  plan- 
tation in  South  Carolina  —  always  place  the  em- 
phasis on  the  second  syllable,  —  o?,  —  if  you  want 
to  get  on  in  good  society.  Well,  the  man  who 
took  the  place  is  suffering  from  rheumatism  ;  hasn't 
been  able  to  do  a  day's  work  for  the  last  quarter. 
His  wife  is  sickly,  and  they  have  eight  children. 


240  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

They  beg  me  to  have  patience.  Patience !  why, 
Daisy,  they  owe  me  the  whole  year's  rent.  What 
am  I  to  do  ?  And  a  stout,  able-bodied  man  wants 
the  place.  They  could  go  into  a  little  cottage  on 
the  farm,  but  they  couldn't  turn  round  in  it." 

"  What  in  the  world  will  you  do  ? "  asked 
Daisy,  her  interest  divided  between  the  suffering 
family,  and  the  loss  sustained  by  her  friend. 

"  That's  what  I  have  done  ;  "  and  she  held  a 
check  before  Daisy's  eyes,  a  check  for  a  hundred 
dollars. 

"  What !     You  are  going  to  send  them  that?  " 

"  Yes.  My  bald-headed  angel  says  that  money 
is  scarce,"  Mrs.  St.  Albert  continued.  "  He  gave 
me  that  hundred  with  a  little  sage  advice.  Queer, 
wasn't  it,  when  I  was  going  to  get  a  sage-green 
costume  for  winter  ?  Well,  I  find  I  can  get  along 
without  it,  so  as  I  am  a  soft-hearted  fool,  I  sup- 
pose, I  am  going  to  remit  a  part  of  the  year's 
rent,  and  send  them  this  to  help  them  through. 
Eight  children,  my  dear  !  They  must  all  go  bare- 
footed! It  would  take  a  small  fortune  to  keep 
them  in  shoes.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  cry  over  my 
own  softness ;  but,  do  you  believe  I  shall  ever  be 
any  the  poorer  ?  " 

"Mrs.  St.  Albert!  it  is  glorious  of  you!"  said 
Daisy,  with  beaming  eyes.  "  Oh  !  do  let  me  help 
them.  I  can  give  a  little  money  and  not  feel  it." 


NO  ENGAGEMENT  RING  241 

"  I  shall  allow  nothing  of  the  kind,  honey. 
They  wouldn't  take  it  from  anybody  but  me.  As 
my  old  nurse  used  to  say,  '  Don't  you  go  into  de 
tatterdemillions,  chil'n,  cause  de  sky-lark  singin'  in 
yo'  bosom  —  wait  till  de  flurry's  past.'  So  you 
can  wait  till  more  help  is  needed.  I  am  going  to 
send  my  own  dear  old  Carolina  doctor,  Flossy,  to 
the  man.  He  will  go,  for  he  owed  my  father 
money,  and  will  gladly  lessen  his  obligation  in 
that  way.  He  is  a  youth  of  only  eighty-one  short 
summers,  but  good  for  the  rheumatism  yet.  Oh  ! 
I  clean  forgot !  Our  Mr.  Temple  is  a  senator ! 
Daisy,  why  didn't  you  catch  him  while  you  could  ? 
Think  of  being  a  senator's  wife  !  " 

Daisy  blushed  divinely  red. 

"  I  half  believe  you  did.  Hold  up  your  hands, 
child." 

Daisy  laughed,  holding  up  her  slender  white 
fingers. 

Mrs.  St.  Albert  shook  her  head. 

"  I  don't  see  an  engagement-ring.  Never  mind, 
Daisy,  you  will  have  your  chance  yet.  You  are 
going  to  Washington,  of  course." 

"  Next  month,"  Daisy  said,  "  if  I  can  get  ready." 

"  Get  ready  •  Why,  you  must.  You  shall  have 
your  dresses  made  by  Madame  Pantane,  my  own 
peerless  dressmaker.  If  you  like,  she  will  even 
get  the  material  and  cut  by  measurement,  as  she 


242  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

does  for  me.  Then  we  will  take  a  day  or  two  and 
go  to  New  York.  You  can  have  them  all  fitted  at 
once,  and  the  thing  is  done.  She  will  charge  like 
the  mischief,  of  course ;  but  then  not  a  care  will 
disturb  the  serenity  of  your  mind,  and  I  know  you 
are  not  a  miser.  Talking  of  misers,  I  had  an  aunt 
who  had  worn  a  seal-skin  coat  for  twenty  years. 
Well,  you  may  imagine  it  was  only  the  ghost  of 
the  original  seal.  She  wouldn't  allow  her  nearest 
friend  to  make  her  a  present ;  that  was  one  of  her 
fads.  So  when  I  bought  mine,  she  admired  it  very 
much.  '  If  I  could  only  get  one  for  a  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  like  that,'  she  said,  '  I  believe  I 
would  buy  one.' 

" '  You  can,'  I  said, '  there  is  just  one  left.  Give 
me  the  hundred  and  fifty,  and  I  will  get  it  for  you.' 
To  my  great  surprise  she  consented.  I  went  in 
to  town  and  bought  one  like  mine,  paying  the  dif- 
ference —  another  hundred  and  fifty  —  out  of  my 
own  pocket.  She  was  very  much  pleased,  as  you 
may  imagine ;  and  so  was  I,  to  see  the  last  of  that 
wretched  old  coat.  The  very  first  time  she  came 
to  the  house,  she  wore  the  old  seal-skin,  gaping 
from  a  hundred  wounds. 

"  '  Where's  your  new  coat,  aunt  ?  '  I  asked. 

"  '  La,  child,'  she  answered, '  Mrs.  Colonel  Tasket 
offered  me  twenty -five  dollars  for  the  bargain,  and 
I  sold  it  to  her ! ' 


-A  HONEYBUG  243 

"Imagine  my  feelings  !  I  don't  believe  I  have 
been  thoroughly  unselfish  since  then." 

"  Did  she  ever  know  it  ?  "  asked  Daisy. 

"  Never ;  but  she  remembered  me  in  her  will ; 
so  you  see  I  got  my  money  back.  But  about  this 
Washington  visit.  How  delightful  to  have  rela- 
tives at  Washington !  We  must  get  the  new 
dresses  all  done,  and  then  what  a  honeybug  you 
will  be  !  That's  what  my  old  Nana  called  me  on 
the  occasion  of  my  coming  out.  She  described 
the  ceremony  in  this  way  :  — 

"  '  Our  folkses  gib  a  party,  an'  de  big  bugs  dey 
come  down  the  revenue  in  kerridges,  an  massa 
receive  dem  in  a  very  hostile  manner.  Den  Miss 
Ally  she  come  down  stars  all  dressed  in  tarlinton, 
an'  de  folks  dey  all  shook  hands  wid  her.  I  dunno 
what  dey  called  it,  somethin'  wid  a  debby  to  it, 
but  I  calls  it  a  honeybug,  'cause  she  did  look  so 
sweet  as  honey  in  de  hive.'  Poor  old  nurse.  She 
lived  to  see  me  married." 

The  two  women  were  soon  busy  comparing 
notes  over  the  fashion-magazines  of  the  month ; 
and  when  Daisy  went  home  she  felt  a  sense  of 
relief  in  having  Mrs.  St.  Albert's  co-operation,  for 
every  thing  was  settled,  —  color,  style,  material, 
—  and  Daisy  was  fancy  free  once  more. 


244  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

ZUE'S   REMORSE. 

ON  the  following  day  another  letter  came  from 
Temple,  also  one  from  her  cousin. 

"  We  are  deciding  about  your  room,"  wrote  the 
latter ;  "  and,  as  change  is  the  social  order  of  the 
day,  we  are  anxious  to  know  what  is  your  favorite 
color.  It  can  be  done  up  in  blue,  buff,  or  pink, 
just  as  you  decide,  and  we  intend  to  keep  you  for 
a  good  long  visit. 

"A  friend  of  ours  who  knows  you,  calls  here 
often.  He  is  very  handsome,  very  distinguished- 
looking,  a  wonder  of  wit  and  intelligence,"  the 
writer  went  on,  "and  his  name  begins  with  T. 
That  is  all  I  mean  to  tell  you,  at  present.  Don't 
imagine  that  he  is  a  lover  of  mine  ;  it  has  not 
come  to  that  yet,  but  he  is  very  agreeable ;  I  may 
add,  rather  fascinating.  I  can't  get  him  to  talk 
about  you.  I  hope  you  haven't  been  flirting  with 
him.  Of  course  you  never  did.  You  are  much 
too  staid  a  little  girl  to  indulge  in  such  nonsense. 
He  was  astonished  enough  when  he  learned  that 


WHAT    TEMPLE  SAID  245 

we  were  cousins.  I  hope  to  introduce  you  to  many 
notabilities.  If  you  are  real  good,  you  need  not 
go  back  at  all,  but  live  in  a  house  of  your  own  in 
this  splendid  city.  Don't  let  me  frighten  you  with 
my  nonsense,  and  pray  send  me  your  favorite  color, 
so  that  we  may  have  plenty  of  time.  We  are 
having  the  whole  house  done  up  now,  and  by  the 
time  you  come  it  will  be  lovely." 

Sc  much  for  Eleanor's  letter.  Now  for  a  sen- 
tence in  Temple's  correspondence  :  — 

"  I  have  met  your  cousin,  Miss  Eleanor  Lyttle- 
ton.  I  was  suitably  astonished,  for  I  did  not  even 
dream  that  you  had  a  relation  in  Washington.  She 
is  really  a  very  beautiful  girl,  and  somewhat  resem- 
bles you,  though  she  is  taller  and  older.  Judging 
her  from  a  society  point  of  view,  she  is  very  suc- 
cessful as  a  giver  of  teas  and  luncheons ;  but  I 
hear  that  she  is  also  very  generous,  and  belongs  to 
half  a  dozen  or  more  charitable  associations. 

"  I  have  said  very  little  about "-  —  here  the  word 
"  our  "  was  scratched  out,  and  "  my  "  substituted, 
—  "  about  my  acquaintance  with  your  family  and 
yourself,  as  it  would  not  be  good  form  to  disclose 
my  preferences  and  hopes,  until  after  I  meet  your 
brother,  and  the  matter  is  settled  to  his  satisfaction. 
To  be  sure,  I  might  write  him,  but  I  have  a  lawyer's 
objection  to  writing  about  things  which  are  per- 
sonally important.  I  know  that  I  have  your  dear 


246  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

heart,  and  that  is  enough  for  me.  Your  cousin 
may  suspect,  but  she  is  very  polite  if  she  does. 
So  when  we  meet,  I  will  turn  over  your  music, 
and  assist  you  at  luncheon,  and  the  like,  and  be 
your  very  good  friend.  Shall  I  keep  my  eyes 
from  telling  tales,  I  wonder? 

"  You  will  find  your  cousin  Everard  —  not  ex- 
actly a  dude,  he  has  too  much  brains  for  that,  but 
apparently  a  very  dissatisfied  young  fellow,  playing 
the  role  of  a  worn-out  worldling,  and  he  not  yet 
twenty-five.  You  must  help  him  find  his  youth 
again.  It  is  sorrowful  to  see  a  man  blase  at 
twenty-four." 

Daisy  answered  both  letters  in  her  direct,  simple 
style,  then  went  down-stairs  and  played  something 
from  Mendelssohn,  wondering  where  all  her  enthu- 
siasm had  gone.  Her  cousin  must  indeed  be  very 
beautiful  to  draw  words  of  such  praise  from  her 
reticent  lover. 

"  Possibly  she  thinks  of  me  as  a  simple  country 
girl  —  and  so  I  am,"  she  added  quickly,  leaving 
the  piano,  and  going  towards  the  window.  "  She, 
Eleanor  has  always  lived  in  cities,  always  been  in 
circumstances  of  affluence,  and  I  know  almost 
nothing  of  city  ways  and  society.  Still,  I  am  not 
afraid,"  and  she  drew  her  slight  figure  to  its 
utmost  height.  "  If  ho  finds  in  her  a  more  con- 
genial companion  to  share  his  exalted  destiny  — 


A  LITTLE   JEALOUS  247 

and  he  says  she  is  very  beautiful  —  but  what  is 
this  ?  Am  I  already  jealous  ?  " 

Her  reflections  were  becoming  decidedly  depress- 
ing, though  she  laughed  at  herself.  She  moved 
to  another  window,  and  in  so  doing  commanded  a 
view  of  Zue,  who,  back  to,  her,  was  digging  a  hole 
in  the  corner  of  the  fence,  near  the  field,  with  the 
kitchen-shovel.  Something  dark  showed  on  the 
ground  near  her. 

Daisy  went  to  the  door,  all  in  a  tremor. 

"  Zue,"  she  called,  "  what  are  you  doing  ?  " 

The  child  started  violently,  but  made  no  reply. 
Again  Daisy  called,  but  the  little  girl  stood  sulkily 
still,  only  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

Daisy  went  out,  oblivious  of  the  damp,  for  it 
had  been  raining.  Zue  gave  a  low  cry,  and 
attempted  to  run,  but  Daisy  caught  her  by  the 
arm. 

"  What  is  that  thing  down  there  ?  Why,  Zue  ! 
it's  a  cat,  and  dead !  " 

The  girl  tried  to  shake  herself  out  of  Daisy's 
grasp.  Then  she  slid  down  to  the  ground  and 
began  to  cry. 

"  Why,  Zue  !  it's  Lapwing !  "  Daisy  exclaimed 
with  a  gesture  of  horror.  "  My  pretty  Lapwing, 
dead !  Tell  me,  how  did  she  die  ?  " 

Zue  maintained  an  obstinate  silence. 

"  Come  into  the  house,  you  terrible  girl,  and  I 


248  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

shall  see  what  your  mother  has  to  say  ! "  Daisy 
exclaimed,  shaking  all  over  with  mingled  wrath 
and  grief,  and  leading  the  now  unresisting  Zue, 
who  was  sobbing  in  a  paroxysm  of  terror. 

"  See,  Margy,  what  does  this  mean  ? "  Daisy 
asked.  "  Do  you  know  what  the  matter  was  with 
Lapwing?  My  poor  little  unfortunate  kitten?  " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  was  the  half-sullen  answer. 
"  Zue  killed  it." 

"  Zue  killed  my  kitten !  "  Daisy  repeated  with 
a  little  scream.  "  Zue !  when  she  knew  how 
much  I  loved  it  I  Zue !  and  I  planning  day  and 
night  to  help  her,  working  all  the  time  for  her 
good." 

"  Don't  do  it,  Miss  Daisy,  she  —  she's  not  worth 
it.  I've  given  her  up  long  ago." 

"  Zue,  what  did  you  do  it  for  ?  "  asked  Daisy, 
almost  crying. 

"  She  won't  tell  you,  but  I  will.  She  got  in  one 
of  her  fits  of  temper,  and  the  poor  kitten  happened 
to  come  in  her  way,  so  she  just  up  with  the  poker 
and  broke  its  back.  It  didn't  live  long,"  said  the 
woman  stolidly. 

"  Oh  !  my  poor  little  Lapwing !  "  sobbed  Daisy. 
"  Cruel,  wicked  girl !  —  I  give  you  up.  There's 
no  use,  as  your  mother  says,  in  trying  to  help  you. 
I  did  think  you  loved  me  a  little,  but  now  I  see 
that  you  only  hate  me,  and  destroy  and  kill  my 


WHO   WAS   HER  FATHER  249 

pets,  who  have  never  harmed  you.  I  never  can  be 
good  to  you  again.  I  want  you  to  keep  out  of  my 
way.  Sometime  I  shall  hear  dreadful  news  of 
you.  You  will  kill  some  human  thing,  and  then 
you  are  gone.  Margy,  what  makes  the  child  so 
cruel?" 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Miss  Daisy ; "  then  she  added, 
between  her  shut  teeth,  "  her  father  was  cruel 
before  her." 

"  Who  was  her  father ?  Where  is  he  living?" 
asked  Daisy,  in  a  kind  of  desperation. 

The  woman  turned  and  looked  at  her,  then 
burst  into  a  hard,  bitter  laugh. 

"  You  ask  me  that  ?  Yes,  he  is  living,  honorable, 
respected ;  there,  you've  got  all  out  of  me  that 
you  ever  will  get.  Go  away,  Miss  Daisy ;  please 
go  away.  I'm  —  sometimes  I'm  not  sure  of  my- 
self. Don't  tremble  that  way,  you  dear  girl. 
Nothing  shall  hurt  you ;  I  swear  that !  What  am 
I  saying  ? "  She  put  her  hards  to  her  head, 
"  Forget  it  all,  Miss  Daisy.  The  child  troubles 
me  so  !  She  worries  me  out  of  my  life  from  day 
to  day,  and  what  can  I  do  ?  When  she  struck  the 
poor  little  kitten  in  her  fury,  I  might  have  struck 
her,  crushed  the  life  out  of  her,  the  way  I  felt,  but 
what  good  would  it  have-  done  ?  I  might  have 
maimed  her  for  life  as  I  felt  then.  I've  learned  to 
command  myself.  No;  let  us  go  on  our  ways, 


250  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

Miss  Daisy.  Don't  waste  your  money  on  the 
child  —  don't  do  it.  She  isn't  worth  it.  Some- 
times I  think  there  isn't  a  good  thing  in  her  ; "  and 
the  woman  wrung  her  hands  in  a  sort  of  despair, 
looking  over  to  where  the  child  sat,  hard  and  sul- 
len yet.  "  Besides,  I've  enough  for  us  both.  I've 
saved  money.  Sometime,  if  ever  she  gets  sense,  I 
may  try  to  make  something  out  of  her.  She  did 
seem  to  love  you,  but  she  don't  know  what  love  is. 
It's  all  hate  in  her  hard  little  heart." 

"  Have  you  tried  to  love  her  ?"  asked  Daisy. 

The  woman  paused  again,  for  she  had  caught  up 
the  flat-iron  and  was  using  it  in  a  frenzied  sort  of 
way. 

"  How  can  I  love  when  there's  nothing  to  love  ?  " 
she  asked  in  a  harsh  voice.  "  Perhaps  I  gave  the 
child  her  hatefulness.  I  shouldn't  wonder.  Any- 
way, she  is  what  she  is,  and  I  can't  change  her." 

Daisy  looked  at  her  compassionately.  She  had 
seen  people  who  cared  little  for  friends  and  asso- 
ciates, who  seemed  by  no  ties  of  interest  to  be 
kind  to  the  race  ;  but  to  hear  a  mother  talk  thus 
despairingly  about  a  child  was  something  that  was 
new  and  horrible.  What  slough  of  despair  had 
this  woman  waded  through,  to  feel  the  clog  and 
mud  on  her  spirit  yet  ?  She  went  out  of  the 
room  depressed  and  sad. 

Then  Margy  sat  down,  covering  her  eyes  with 
her  hands. 


A  STRANGE  OUTCRY  251 

"  Always  the  same  ! "  she  cried  bitterly.  "  I 
cannot  get  up  the  courage.  But  I  will !  And  God 
help  and  forgive  me  !  " 

Poor  little  Lapwing  was  buried  by  Daisy's 
own  hands ;  and  the  girl,  in  a  fever  of  anxiety, 
thought  over  all  Margy  had  said  in  the  solitude  of 
her  own  room. 

"  After  all,  why  should  I  take  her  cares  and 
vexations  upon  myself?"  she  soliloquized.  "I 
have  tried  to  do  my  best  for  that  unfortunate 
child,  who  must  have  been  evil  from  her  birth.  I 
will  try  to  forget  —  but  still  —  I  wish  Margy 
would  tell  me  her  story.  These  hints  and  passion- 
ate outcries  make  me  miserable.  So  her  husband 
is  living.  She  never  admitted  that  before.  Is  there 
any  way  I  can  get  at  her  entire  confidence,  I  won- 
der ?  I  think  it  would  do  her  good,  poor  thing." 

Late  that  night,  indeed  near  midnight,  Daisy 
was  awakened  suddenly  out  of  a  sound  sleep  by  a 
strange  outcry.  She  started  up  in  bed,  and  lis- 
tened. Again  and  again  that  weird,  wild  outburst, 
then  voices,  then  some  one  walking  hastily  about 
overhead.  Something  had  happened. 

Daisy  rose,  lighted  a  hand-lamp,  and  slipped 
into  her  dressing-gown.  The  cries  grew  more 
piercing.  Mary  knocked  at  her  door. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Daisy,  what  is  it  ? "  she 
asked. 


252  IF  SHE   WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"It's  in  Margy's  room,  and  I'm  going  up  to 
see,"  said  Daisy,  trying  to  disguise  her  fear.  "  You 
go  back  to  bed  and  leave  it  to  me.  I  hear  Margy 
walking  about.  Don't  be  frightened." 

Daisy's  heart  was  leaping  like  a  wild  thing,  but 
she  conquered  the  weakness  that  made  her  almost 
faint,  and  ran  up-stairs.  Had  Margy,  goaded  to 
madness,  tortured  or  killed  the  child  ?  She  knocked 
at  the  door.  There  was  a  hurried  noise  as  of 
some  one  running.  Then  Margy  called  out,  — 

"Who's  there?" 

"  It's  I,  Daisy,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !  I  couldn't  have  hoped  it  of 
you,"  said  the  woman,  opening  the  door.  "  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I'm  almost  crazy.  The  child 
drives  me  out  of  my  wits.  I'm  afraid  she'll  go 
into  convulsions." 

Daisy  went  into  the  room,  glad  it  was  nothing 
worse.  There  lay  the  child,  writhing  in  the  middle 
of  the  bed,  her  arms  thrown  wildly  out,  and  stifled 
sobs  fighting  with  the  cries  that  now  rang  from 
her  lips.  Her  eyes  were  blood-shot.  Great  tears 
were  rolling  down  the  distorted  cheeks.  Daisy 
tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  Zue  only  struggled, 
and  she  desisted. 

"  Oh  !  tell  her  I  do  love  her !  O  Miss  Daisy  ! 
Miss  Daisy !  My  heart  is  breaking  for  you.  And 
now  she  hates  me ;  and  I  do,  I  do,  I  do  love  her  I 


ZUE  A  PENITENT  253 

I'd  die  for  her !  —  but  she  never  will  love  me 
again.  Oh !  I'm  so  sorry  !  "  Then  came  a  pro- 
longed cry,  that  was  pitiful  in  its  heart-aching 
intensity. 

"  Zue,  listen,  I  am  here,"  said  Daisy.  "  You 
must  stop  shrieking.  Everybody  in  the  house  is 
awake.  Is  that  the  way  you  love  people  ?  —  to 
worry  them  ?  " 

"  O  Miss  Daisy !  I  —  oh  !  —  I'm  so  sorry  !  Do 
forgive  me,  Miss  Daisy ! "  cried  the  child,  her 
voice  broken  by  sobs.  "I  didn't  mean  to  kill  it 
—  I  really  didn't.  Oh!  if  I  could  give  it  life 
again  !  " 

"  She's  been  going  on  for  more  than  an  hour," 
her  mother  said.  "  I  can't  do  anything  with 
her." 

"  Listen,  Zue,"  said  Daisy,  putting  her  face 
close  to  the  child,  "  I  do  forgive  you,  freely.  And 
if  you  will  be  quiet,  and  as  you  are  so  sorry,  I  won't 
treasure  it  up  against  you.  No,  indeed  !  I'll  love 
you  again,  if  you  will  only  try  to  conquer  that 
wicked  temper." 

"  Oh  !  I  will,  Miss  Daisy.  Oh !  I'm  so  sorry  ! 
I  do  love  you,  I  do  love  you,  Miss  Daisy  !  I  always 
did.  Please,  please  forgive  me." 

"I  do;  I  told  you  I  did,"  said  Daisy,  as  the 
child's  sobs  grew  fainter,  and  the  anguish  left  her 
face  by  degrees.  "  I  thought  you  didn't  care ;  but 


254  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

now  that  you  do,  now  that  you  are  sorry,  I'll  take 
you  back.  Come,  kiss  me,  and  make  up." 

The  child  lifted  herself,  her  abundant  hair  fall- 
ing about  her  like  a  cloud,  and  threw  her  arms 
about  Daisy  in  a  passion  of  feeling,  kissing  her 
again  and  again. 

"  If  ever  I  do  find  my  father,"  she  whispered  in 
Daisy's  ear,  "  I'll  tell  him  how  lovely  and  good 
you  are ;  and  I  never,  never'll  be  wicked  again. 
But,  oh,  Miss  Daisy  !  "  and  the  sobs  started  again. 
"  I  can't  give  back  your  kitty." 

"No  matter  now,  about  the  kitten.  I'll  get 
another,  perhaps,"  Daisy  said,  with  natural  hesi- 
tancy, feeling  that  she  ran  the  risk  of  another 
funeral.  And  so,  by  degrees,  the  child  ceased 
her  sobs,  and  lay  pale  and  exhausted  on  the 
pillow. 

"  We  must  have  no  more  crying  to  keep  your 
poor  mother  up,"  said  Daisy,  preparing  to  leave. 

"  I've  been  awful  wicked  to  her  too,"  said  the 
child  in  a  subdued  voice,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands.  Her  mother  looked  at  Daisy,  shaking 
her  head  in  mute  astonishment.  She  dared  not 
speak  ;  but,  for  the  first  time  for  years,  the  child 
went  to  sleep  in  her  mother's  arms,  her  head 
pillowed  in  her  mother's  bosom. 


LIKE  A  FLOWER  255 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

DAISY'S   LAST   SUNDAY   IN   CHURCH. 

EVERYBODY  in  town  knew  by  the  time  Daisy 
was  ready  for  her  visit  to  Washington,  that  she 
had  inherited  a  legacy  from  some  relation.  The 
choir-girls  whispered  about  it  among  themselves, 
the  while  they  criticised  the  lovely  new  bonnet 
and  tailor-made  suit  in  which  Daisy  made  her 
appearance  in  church. 

Under  the  soft  dove  color  edged  with  pink,  the 
fluffy  pink  feathers  just  showing  against  its  deli- 
cate edge,  Daisy's  face  was  indeed  something  to 
delight  one. 

"  She's  like  a  flower  herself,"  the  old  sexton 
said,  as  she  nodded  towards  him  her  bright  good- 
morning,  her  hands  full  of  flowers  for  the  chancel. 

"  So  you  are  really  going  to  leave  us,  Miss 
Daisy,"  said  the  pale  spinster  whose  duty  and 
delight  it  was  to  decorate  the  church,  and  who 
attended  to  her  work  with  angelic  persistence,  in 
spite  of  her  failing  health.  "  How  they  will  miss 
you  at  the  rectory  !  It's  the  first  time  for  years, 
too." 


256  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  The  first  time  in  my  life,"  Daisy  made  reply. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  the  woman  questioned, 
taking  the  flowers  with  eyes  that  sparkled  at  their 
loveliness.  "  We  are  so  used  to  your  voice  in  the 
choir !  Miss  Rose  is  not  a  bad  soprano,  but  there 
is  no  voice  like  yours  to  my  ear." 

Daisy  thanked  her  with  a  smile.  Miss  Delia,  in 
her  plain  black  straw  bonnet,  and  a  shawl  half  a 
century  old,  though  it  was  a  cashmere,  was  yet 
young  enough  to  enjoy  the  elegance  of  Daisy's 
costume,  and  the  lovely,  eager  face  that  she  had 
known  and  loved  since  the  death  of  Daisy's 
mother,  some  ten  years  before. 

"I  hope  you  will  come  back  to  us,"  she  said 
softly. 

"  Oh !  certainly  I  shall,"  was  the  eager  reply. 
"  They  want  to  keep  me  for  a  long  visit,  but  I 
have  not  made  up  my  mind  to  that.  Sometimes 
I'm  about  ready  to  give  it  all  up.  I  don't  know 
how  I  can  live  away  from  you  all.  But  you  see 
I  promised  my  cousin  I  would  go,  when  I  was  a 
great  deal  more  eager  for  the  visit  than  I  am  now, 
when  it  didn't  look  so  easy  to  go." 

"Yes,  I  know  that  feeling,"  said  Miss  Delia. 
"  I  believe  it  is  so  with  most  of  our  anticipations. 
The  nearer  we  get  to  the  goal  we  long  for,  the  less 
desirable  it  looks.  But  I  must  hurry  with  these 
flowers.  How  many  beautiful  lilies !  " 


SOMETHING  TO   REMEMBER  257 

She  went  quickly  down  the  aisle,  and  Daisy 
mounted  to  the  loft  where  the  singers  sat.  A 
dazzle  of  light  from  the  eastern  window  flooded 
the  place,  shone  upon  some  children  in  the  side- 
gallery,  making  round  the  commonplace  faces  a 
nimbus  of  glory  that  lifted  them  out  of  the  real 
into  something  like  the  shining  of  heaven. 

Daisy  took  in  all  the  church  interior  as  if  she 
were  looking  at  the  long-familiar  scene  for  the 
last  time.  The  arched  roof,  with  its  blazonry  of 
blue  and  gold;  the  long  aisles  and  the  dusk-red 
carpet  that  ran  their  lengths  ;  the  sombre  chancel 
with  its  eagle  lectern  and  graceful  font,  the  red 
roses  spilling  over  its  marble  side  ;  the  splendid 
painted  window,  through  which  the  sun  sifted  ruby 
and  amber  and  diamond  rays  upon  the  faces  under- 
neath ;  the  slender  pillars,  the  massed  candelabras, 
the  gracefully  arched  windows,  —  was  she  indeed 
beholding  them  for  the  last  time  ?  Her  trance 
was  broken  by  a  question.  It  was  from  Rose 
Dimmock.  She  was  turning  the  leaves  of  her 
hymnal. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  new  organist?  " 

"  Very  well,"  said  Daisy,  flushing  a  little.  She 
knew  the  girl's  object  was  to  tease  her. 

"  I  dare  say  he's  nice  enough,"  Rose  said,  "  but 
Rush  Severn  could  play  all  round  him,  besides 
being  so  handsome.  I  suppose  when  you  are 


258  IF  SHE   WILL,   SUE  WILL 

gone,"  she  added  with  a  malice  that  Daisy  detected 
under  her  smooth  voice,  "  Mr.  Severn  will  come 
back." 

"  I  don't  know  anything  about  it,"  was  Daisy's 
rather  curt  reply. 

"  Oh !  don't  you,  really  ?  When  are  you 
going?" 

"  This  week,"  said  Daisy,  looking  for  the 
hymns. 

"So  soon!  Well,  I  suppose  it  will  be  a  long 
visit.  Somebody  told  me  that  you  were  going 
there  to  get  married." 

"  Somebody  was  mistaken,"  said  Daisy  with  an 
impatient  gesture  ;  and  Rose  smiled,  satisfied  that 
at  last  she  had  pierced  through  the  armor  of  her 
indifference  with  a  home-thrust.  She  had  never 
quite  forgiven  Daisy  for  her  superior  gifts,  and  the 
capture  of  Rush  Severn's  heart,  and  was  always 
emphatic  in  her  declaration  that  Daisy  had  led 
him  on  with  her  pretty  affectations,  and  then 
thrown  him  off  like  an  old  shoe. 

"  With  all  her  airs  and  her  new  bonnet,  and 
in  spite  of  the  sacredness  of  the  day,"  she 
said  afterwards  to  her  next  neighbor,  "she  was 
as  mad  as  a  March  hare.  I  think  she  could  have 
bitten  me." 

That  day  as  they  sat  at  the  dinner-table  at  the 
rectory,  Mary  said,  — 


259 

"  Doesn't  it  seem  odd  to  think  of  next  Sunday, 
and  no  Daisy  ?  " 

"  Don't,"  said  Daisy,  chokingly. 

"  I'm  glad  she  is  going,"  said  the  rector,  looking 
at  her  with  an  affectionate  smile.  "  She  ought  to 
see  something  of  the  world.  I  think  she  has 
been  very  good  to  stay  with  us  so  long." 

Daisy  laughed,  though  the  tears  stood  in  her 
eyes. 

"  It's  the  only  home  I  had,"  she  said.  "  I  think 
it  is  you  who  have  been  good  to  keep  me.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  Aunt  Priscilla,  I  should  still  be  a 
burden  upon  you." 

"  Hear  her,"  said  Mary,  laughing.  "  Daisy  a 
burden !  Why,  you  dear  child,  I  shall  moisten  the 
twins  with  my  tears  from  early  dawn  to  dewy  eve, 
when  you  are  gone.  I  sometimes  wish  your  great- 
aunt  Priscilla  had  cut  you  off  with  a  sixpence. 
In  that  case  we  could  have  kept  you  with  us. 
However,  I  prophesy  that  you  won't  stay  long. 
Something  will  happen,  and  back  you'll  come, 
whisking,  to  the  old  parsonage  and  its  dull  in- 
mates. I  wonder  what  it  will  be,  a  wedding  or  a 
funeral  ?  " 

In  after-days  she  remembered  that  speech. 

"  Mary  !  "  her  husband  exclaimed,  a  quick  light 
flashing  in  his  eyes.  "I  thought  you  had  out- 
grown that  trifling  way  of  expressing  yourself." 


260  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Well,  it  occurred  to  me  —  you  know  it  is  just 
possible  that  Daisy  may  get  married.  That's  all  I 
really  meant.  The  other  escaped  me,"  his  wife 
said  with  a  penitent  and  rather  injured  expression. 

"My  dear,  I  don't  like  such  sayings  even  in 
jest,"  said  the  rector,  "but  of  course  you  meant 
nothing." 

The  dresses  all  came  home  at  the  appointed 
time,  and  with  them  appeared  at  the  rectory  Mrs. 
St.  Albert,  determined  to  superintend  the  packing 
of  them.  Six  times  she  led  Daisy  down-stairs  tri- 
umphantly into  the  study,  to  show  off  her  beauti- 
ful gowns,  and  the  perfection  with  which  they 
fitted  her  pretty,  slim  figure. 

"Every  one  of  them  handsome  enough  to  be 
credited  to  a  Worth,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Albert ;  "  and 
many  a  dress  with  Worth's  reputation  clinging  to 
the  skirts,  is  the  production  of  my  dressmaker,  let 
me  tell  you,"  she  added.  "  The  poor  thing  has  to 
lie  awfully  sometimes,  pretending  to  wait  for  the 
steamers,  custom-house  inspectors,  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing,  while  her  girls  are  frantically  finish- 
ing up  the  work,  in  hearing  of  it  all.  But  it 
puts  money  in  her  purse.  My  incomparable  Hugh 
assures  me  that  it  is  highly  reprehensible  in  me  to 
give  the  woman  my  countenance ;  but  there's 
nobody  else  knows  how  to  fit  me,  and  I  don't 
order  Worth  dresses.  See  the  carnations  on  this 


A  BED  OF  CARNATIONS  261 

brocade  !  Aren't  they  charming  ?  And,  speaking 
of  carnations,  my  father  ordered  some  onion-seed 
from  the  Agricultural  Department  several  years 
ago,  intending  to  put  three  acres  in  onions.  Old 
nurse  Nana  came  rushing  into  the  house  one  morn- 
ing, some  time  after  they  had  been  planted,  crying 
out,  — 

"  '  Fo'  de  Lawd,  Mars  Torrent,  de  angels  mus' 
hab  blowed  dere  bref  ober  dem  yar  youngyan 
fields,  and  de  Lawd  knows  dey  needed  it.  Dey's 
all  blossomed  out  like  de  gardings  ob  heben.' 

"  '  Blossomed  out ! '  said  papa,  who  had  just 
come  home  from  a  long  hunting-tour.  '  What  do 
you  mean,  Nana?  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a 
thing  ? ' 

" '  Well,  it's  de  fac,  marse ;  ef  yo'  don't  bleebe 
de  ole  woman,  come  an'  see,'  says  Nana. 

"  Well,  we  all  went  to  see  the  marvellous  sight, 
and,  my  dear,  would  you  believe  it?  there  were 
three  acres  of  glorious  carnations.  My  adorable 
papa  had  a  bad  habit.  He  took  liberties  some- 
times with  the  English  language.  He  did  then, 
and  so  dreadfully  that  we  all  got  out  of  his  way. 
But  from  that  day  to  this,  don't  say  'yonyions  '  to 
papa.  Poor  old  Nana !  If  there  was  any  bad 
news,  she  was  the  one  to  bring  it.  But  three 
acres  of  carnations  !  It  was  the  loveliest  sight  I 
ever  saw.  Gracious,  how  my  tongue  runs  on! 


262  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

Daisy,  come  up-stairs  at  once,  and  I  will  pack 
these  precious  things  away." 

The  day  and  hour  came,  and  Daisy  was  driven 
to  the  depot,  Mary  and  the  twins  accompanying 
her,  while  the  rector  held  the  reins.  Daisy  was 
very  quiet.  A  comparison  full  of  regret  was 
going  on  in  her  innermost  heart  between  her  pre- 
vious longings  to  plunge  into  the  world,  and  the 
real  feelings  with  which  she  regarded  her  proposed 
visit,  now  that  she  was  actually  on  the  way. 

Whenever  she  thought  of  Temple,  a  blissful 
sense  of  the  surety  of  meeting  him  at  her  cousin's 
pervaded  all  her  being ;  but  to  part  with  life-long 
associates,  even  for  a  few  months,  gave  her  acute 
pain,  and  the  tears  were  often  all  but  brimming 
over  her  lashes. 

"Now,  kiss  the  twins,"  said  Mary  nervously. 
"  Say  good-by  to  auntie,  little  folks,  in  your 
choicest  vernacular.  Maybe  they'll  keep  her  where 
she  is  going,  and  you'll  never  set  eyes  on  her 
again,  you  poor,  deserted  little  lambs !  Good-by, 
Daisy,"  she  went  on,  as  the  carriage  came  to  a 
stand-still.  "I  won't  get  out.  I  hate  partings 
and  engine-smoke  and  car-whistles,  with  the  roar 
of  steam  in  one's  ears.  Now  be  a  good  girl,  and 
don't  cry.  Write  as  often  as  possible,  and  be  as 
happy  as  you  can ;  "  and  so  she  rattled  on  till  Daisy 
had  left  the  carriage.  Then  she  leaned  back  in 


A  WELL-KEPT  SECRET  263 

the  seat,  and  left  the  twins  to  their  own  devices, 
while  she  indulged  in  a  few  brief  tears,  as  she 
afterwards  expressed  herself  to  her  husband. 

Meantime  Daisy  stood  on  the  platform,  the 
centre  of  a  little  bevy  of  girl-friends,  who  were 
busy  with  last  words  and  well-concealed  envy. 

"You  didn't  think  I'd  let  you  go  oft.  all  by 
yourself,  did  you?"  asked  a  familiar  voice;  and 
there  before  Daisy's  astonished  gaze  stood  Mrs. 
St.  Albert,  in  a  lovely  gray  travelling-dress,  perfect 
from  head  to  foot,  with  bonnet,  gloves,  and  rib- 
bons of  the  same  shade. 

"  But,  do  you  mean,"  Daisy  began,  breathless 
but  delighted,  "  that  you  are  going  with  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  the  little  lady,  with  one 
of  her  charming  smiles,  which  set  dimples  in 
motion  that  rivalled  Daisy's  own.  "  See  how  well 
your  reverend  brother  can  keep  a  secret !  He  has 
known  of  it  —  oh  !  these  three  weeks.  When  my 
peerless  spouse  and  that  adorable  brother  of  yours 
put  their  heads  together,  something  comes  of  it. 
Yes,  I  am  going  all  the  way  to  Baltimore,  there  to 
take  a  train  for  my  native  town.  You  see,  there 
are  matters  of  business  to  be  attended  to.  So,  as 
we  get  to  Baltimore  in  the  evening,  you  and  I  are 
going  to  stop  at  a  hotel  for  the  night,  of  which, 
luckily,  my  husband's  cousin  is  the  proprietor. 
Everything  has  been  attended  to.  You  will  be 


264  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

met  the  next  day  at  noon  by  your  cousin,  and 
taken  to  your  place  of  destination." 

"  How  delightful !  "  and  Daisy  laughed.  "  It 
is  certainly  nice  to  be  disappointed  in  that  manner. 
I  have  been  so  nervous  over  the  idea  of  travelling 
entirely  by  myself." 

"  Well,  dear,  we  are  going  to  have  a  good  time," 
said  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  drawing  the  strings  of  her 
gray  plush  travelling-bag.  "  To-morrow  night  we 
shall  be  almost  at  our  journey's  end." 

The  rector  came  up  to  put  Daisy  on  board  the 
cars.  The  two  ladies  were  safely  seated,  the  last 
adieus  taken,  and,  instead  of  a  tearful  farewell, 
Daisy  found  herself  sending  merry  remembrances 
to  the  twins,  and  last  words  to  Margy  and  Zue, 
whose  sad  faces  had  followed  her  to  the  station. 


DIAMONDS  265 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

FOR   HER   COUSIN'S   SAKE. 

THE  journey  was  an  uneventful  one,  save  that 
Mrs.  St.  Albert,  with  her  inexhaustible  fund  of 
anecdote  and  flow  of  animal  spirits,  made  it  seem 
unusually  brief. 

The  grand  room  in  which  they  slept  that  night, 
with  its  panels,  portieres,  and  rich  hangings,  gave 
the  girl  a  foretaste  of  what  she  might  expect  in 
her  cousin's  palatial  home. 

"  Oh !  what  a  lovely  diamond !  "  exclaimed 
Daisy,  as  Mrs.  St.  Albert  laid  her  ring  upon  the 
satin  cushion,  that  half  covered  the  dainty  dress- 
ing-table. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  her  friend  responded.  "  I 
suppose  it  is,  but  I  don't  particularly  care  for 
diamonds." 

"  Not  care  for  diamonds !  I  just  adore  them. 
They  are  the  most  beautiful  things  in  the  world," 
said  Daisy  naively. 

"  Do  you  know,  I  have  nearly  a  dozen  diamond 
rings,  of  more  or  less  value  ? "  said  Mrs.  St. 


266  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

Albert  lightly.  "I  seldom  wear  them,  only  to 
please  my  jewel-loving  spouse.  Every  anniversary 
of  our  married  life,  he  has  given  me  diamonds,  — 
rings  or  ear-drops,  or  something  of  the  sort.  Some- 
times I  am  tempted  to  think  that  he  does  it  as  an 
investment,  only  the  dear  man  is  sentimental,  even 
now  with  that  bald  spot  on  his  head.  Come, 
Daisy,  you  will  lose  your  beauty  sleep  if  you 
don't  go  to  bed  this  minute,"  she  added  with  mock 
severity. 

The  rest  of  Daisy's  journey,  which  was  a  brief 
one,  was  made  alone,  and  she  was  met  at  the 
depot  by  her  cousin  and  Senator  Temple.  Save 
the  flush  on  her  cheek,  the  sparkle  of  her  eyes,  and 
the  prolonged  pressure  of  Temple's  hand,  they 
might  have  met  as  friends  or  acquaintances,  noth- 
ing more.  Young  Lyttleton  looked  his  surprise 
at  the  fresh  young  face,  that  he  at  once  voted 
prettier  than  even  Eleanor's ;  and  the  welcome  he 
gave  her  was  so  warm  and  natural,  that  it  was  no 
effort  for  Daisy  to  call  him  cousin,  at  once. 

Her  reception  at  the  house  was  equally  inspirit- 
ing. Eleanor  carried  her  off  to  her  room  as  soon 
as  she  came. 

"  Why,  what  a  woman  you  have  grown !  "  she 
exclaimed,  as  she  herself  assisted  Daisy  with  her 
wraps,  saying  that  they  would  not  have  the  dress- 
ing-maid just  at  first. 


A  LITTLE  BOOK-WORM  267 

"  I  was  very  small  and  young  when  you  saw  me 
last,"  said  Daisy.  "  Only  fourteen." 

"  Yes,  and  such  a  grave  little  book-worm !  I 
hope  you  don't  care  so  much  for  books  now." 

All  this  time  she  was  studying  the  details  of 
Daisy's  dress,  and  mentally  deciding  that  it  would 
do.  " 

"  I  am  not  quite  as  omnivorous  as  I  was  then," 
was  Daisy's  laughing  reply.  "  Now  I  choose  my 
reading.  Then  it  did  not  matter  what  came  into 
my  hand,  it  was  all  swallowed.  I  don't  think  I 
cared  much  for  style,  however,  until  I  happened 
on  some  copies  of  Addison's  '  Spectator.'  " 

Eleanor  groaned  within. 

"  I  never  happened  on  any,  I  am  thankful  to 
say,  but  I  do  like  a  good  novel  now  and  then.  I 
copied  the  arrangement  of  your  room  out  of  a 
book,"  Eleanor  said. 

"  Is  this  my  room  ?  How  beautiful  it  is ! 
Brother  Arthur  would  say  it  is  a  poem." 

"  Dear  uncle  Arthur  !  He  is  a  poem  himself," 
was  the  response.  "  There  are  some  noted  clergy- 
men here,  but  none  with  his  personal  beauty  and 
magnetic  presence.  Does  he  play  as  delightfully 
as  he  used  ?  " 

"  Just  as  well,"  said  Daisy,  arranging  her  hair  at 
a  splendid  cheval  glass.  "  Now  what  am  I  to  do  ? 
Of  course  I  know  I'm  expected  to  change  my 


268        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

dress  for  dinner.  But  you  see  I  am  unaccustomed 
to  city  life,  and  only  hope  I  shall  do  you  no 
discredit." 

"  No  danger,"  laughed  Eleanor,  adding  to  her- 
self, "  If  she  is  so  lovely  in  a  simple  travelling- 
gown,  what  will  she  be  in  full  dress  ?  I  must  see 
to  my  laurels."  A  momentary  uneasiness  seized 
her,  a  faintness  that  caused  her  to  steady  herself 
by  the  table  near  her.  Of  late  she  had  been  float- 
ing through  a  golden  dream.  Nor  could  she  deny 
to  her  inmost  consciousness  that  the  visits  of 
Temple  had  come  to  be  the  charm  of  her  life.  He 
had  been  kind  to  her  for  her  cousin's  sake,  perhaps 
at  times  almost  tender,  though  quite  unconsciously 
so,  when  her  beautiful  eyes  reminded  him  of  the 
girl  he  loved.  She  had  depended  on  him  for  the 
many  little  attentions  that  girls  are  accustomed  to 
expect.  She  sent  him  to  the  florist's  if  her  brother 
was  not  at  home,  confided  to  him  little  society 
secrets,  and,  if  he  did  not  escort  her -there,  she  was 
sure  to  meet  him  at  the  receptions  of  her  friends. 
Society  indulged  itself  in  a  mild  sort  of  espionage 
of  the  two.  It  had  by  no  means  come  to  be 
thought  that  they  were  engaged  ;  but  little  hints 
went  the  rounds,  some  agreeable,  others  not,  and 
wonderings  when  it  would  be.  It  was  the  unani- 
mous verdict  in  all  quarters,  that  she  would  make 
a  splendid  wife  for  the  new  senator. 


DID   HE   LOVE  HER  269 

Meantime  Eleanor  hoped,  and  before  she  knew 
it.  her  heart  was  gone. 

To  describe  the  anguish,  shame,  even  terror, 
which  were  mingled  with  a  passion  as  pure  as 
woman's  heart  ever  held,  when  she  came  to  a  full 
knowledge  of  this  fact,  would  be  impossible.  Then 
she  realized  that  she  had  never  before  known  the 
meaning  of  the  word  love,  which,  to  natures  like 
here,  can  come  but  once.  And  yet,  might  he  not 
love  her?  Did  he  not  love  her?  She  trembled 
from  head  to  foot  while  searching  in  her  mind  for 
some  evidence  of  the  fact. 

"  Oh  !  if  he  should  not,"  she  gasped,  her  whole 
soul  one  wild  alarm,  "I  would  pray  God  to  let 
me  die." 


270  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

DIAMONDS. 

"Now  sit  down  and  be  comfortable,"  said 
Eleanor,  as  Daisy  turned  away  from  the  mirror. 
"  We  need  do  nothing  but  talk  for  the  next  hour, 
if  you  are  not  too  weary  after  your  journey. 
Mamma  is  at  a  luncheon.  We  were  both  invited, 
but  I  elected  to  stay  at  home  to  receive  you." 

"  How  good  of  you  !  "  said  Daisy ;  "  and  I  am 
having  such  a  rest,"  she  went  on,  letting  her  head 
fall  back  on  the  luxurious  chair.  Mrs.  St.  Albert 
came  on  with  me,  and  we  stopped  at  a  hotel  last 
night,  so  you  see  I  ought  not  to  be  so  very  tired. 
I  wish  you  knew  Mrs.  St.  Albert.  She  is  so 
pretty  and  funny !  in  one  word,  lovable." 

"I  think  I  should  like  her,  if  only  for  her 
name,"  said  Eleanor.  "  It  sounds,  some  way, 
artistic." 

" Oh  !  I  forgot;  "  and  Daisy  rose,  a  vivid  crimson 
in  her  cheeks.  "  She  gave  me  a  little  packet. 
Where  is  my  travelling-bag  ?  " 


MRS.  ST.   ALBERT'S  GIFT  271 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Eleanor,  producing  the  article 
from  some  recess. 

"  She  told  me  to  open  it  at  my  journey's  end." 
The  packet  was  found.  "  Some  last  words,  I 
suppose,"  she  went  on  vivaciously.  "  Mrs.  St. 
Albert  is  a  great  talker,  but,  oh !  so  winning  and 
witty ! " 

Daisy  had  laid  the  bag  aside,  and  now  proceeded 
to  open  the  package.  Inside  was  a  little  oblong 
jewel-box  of  white  velvet,  wrapped  about  with  a 
note  that  read  as  follows  :  — 

MY  DAISY  OF  DAISIES, — Please  accept  the  enclosed 
from  a  friend  who  loves  you  dearly.  I  decided  long  ago 
that  this  should  be  my  wedding  present  to  you,  and  qui 
boni?  Don't,  please,  get  married,  though,  without  giving 
me  due  notice.  The  diamonds,  setting  and  all,  are  an 
exact  fac  smile  —  N  ana's  rendering  —  of  a  set  I  have  at 
home.  Adieu.  Be  happy.  A.  T.  D.  ST.  A. 

Daisy  grew  pale  as  she  read,  then  the  lovely 
color  came  rushing  back.  Breathless  and  happy, 
she  opened  the  box ;  and  there  shone  the  sparkling 
solitaire  she  had  so  artlessly  admired  the  night 
before  ;  a  pair  of  small  ear-drops,  each  drop  a  pure, 
dew-like  diamond  ;  and  a  pin  to  match. 

"  Oh  !  are  they  not  exquisite  ?  "  she  cried,  hold- 
ing them  towards  her  cousin. 

"  Indeed,  they  are  lovely  !  I  don't  think  I  ever 
saw  whiter  stones.  This  Mrs.  St.  Albert  must  be 


272  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

rich,  if  she  can  afford  to  make  presents  of  that 
sort." 

"  Ought  I  to  accept  them  ?  "  Daisy  asked,  putting 
the  glittering  things  away. 

"Don't  ask  me  —  I  should  be  only  too  glad. 
Accept  them  by  all  means,  and  write  one  of  your 
very  prettiest  letters  in  acknowledgment." 

This  was  Eleanor's  advice. 

The  day  waned,  and  still  the  cousins  sat  talk- 
ing. Only  once  Eleanor  went  down-stairs  on  some 
hospitable  duty  intent,  and  then  Daisy  was  left  at 
liberty  to  indulge  in  the  reflections  that  had  been 
checked  by  her  interview  with  her  cousin. 

Temple  was  in  her  thoughts.  How  handsome  ! 
how  royal  he  had  looked  when  he  met  her  !  like  a 
very  god.  And  he  had  held  her  hand  in  a  long, 
warm  pressure.  She  wondered  a  moment  after- 
ward how  she  herself  compared  with  Eleanor  in 
his  eyes. 

"She  certainly  is  beautiful,"  she  half  sighed, 
"  and  her  manner  is  perfect.  Even  her  walk  has 
a  grace  that  I  -have  never  seen  in  any  woman 
before.  I  wonder  if  she  has  the  least  inkling  of 
how  it  is  between  us  ?  Some  way,  I  believe  she 
has  ;  though,  of  course,  till  all  is  settled,  he  would 
not  speak  of  it.  So  I  will  be  as  silent  as  the 
grave." 

When  Eleanor  returned,  her  mother  came  with 


A  FAVORITE  OF  NATURE  273 

her.  Mrs.  Lyttleton's  manner  was  effusive,  but 
Daisy  detected  a  certain  suppression  of  warmth 
that  troubled  her.  It  was  altogether  the  reposeful, 
artistic  welcome  of  a  worldling,  who  had  her  own 
views  of  things,  and  wanted  no  one  to  disturb 
them.  She,  too,  was  altogether  unprepared  for  the 
beautiful  face,  so  sweet  in  repose,  so  enchanting 
when  she  smiled,  that  stamped  Eleanor's  cousin  as 
a  favorite  of  nature. 

"  And  now  I  suppose  I  must  leave  you  to  dress. 
Eleanor's  maid  will  attend  to  you  first." 

"  Oh !  indeed,  I  do  not  want  a  maid,"  Daisy 
eagerly  affirmed.  "  I  am  so  accustomed  to  wait 
upon  myself."  The  expression  in  her  aunt's  calm, 
dark  eyes,  however,  silenced  her. 

"  But,  you  see,  my  dear,  it  will  be  best  for  you," 
said  Mrs.  Lyttleton  in  sweet,  measured  tones. 
"Virginie  would  think  it  odd,  wouldn't  she, 
Eleanor?  She  is  accustomed  to  the  work,  and 
would  wonder  why  her  services  were  not  needed. 
She  will  know  exactly  what  is  becoming,  and  help 
you  unpack  your  boxes." 

Daisy  submitted,  quite  ashamed  of  her  little 
protest. 

"  When  you  are  ready,"  said  Eleanor,  "  you  can 
do  as  you  please  about  going  down-stairs.  The 
piano  is  open,  and  the  library  is  very  comfortable. 
Au  revoir !  Virginie,  don't  spoil  my  cousin's 


274  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

beautiful  hair,  and  be  as  silent  as  you  can.  Madam 
Verges,  our  hair-dresser,  always  comes  at  ten  in 
the  morning.  She  shall  see  to  it  for  you  to- 
morrow." 

Eleanor  left  the  room;  and  Daisy  surrendered 
herself  to  the  maid,  a  pretty,  petite  body,  with  a 
clear  complexion,  and  a  mouth  like  a  rosebud. 
When  she  was  dressed,  she  went  down-stairs.  She 
entered  the  great  parlor,  which  was  in  shadow, 
though  its  fine  proportions  and  splendor  of  fur- 
nishing were  visible.  A  quick  step  reached  her 
ear.  Coming  forward,  both  hands  outstretched, 
an  eager  look  in  his  dark,  striking  face,  was 
Temple.  Instinctively  she  let  her  hands  fall  in 
his,  and  he  drew  her  close  to  his  bosom,  and  kissed 
her  on  the  brow.  Then  he  held  her  at  arm's- 
length  as  he  said,  — 

"  I  told  them  not  to  announce  me.  I  felt  sure 
that  I  should  see  you  first.  Why,  how  beautiful 
you  look !  I  have  never  seen  you  like  this, 
before,  you  know.  Henceforth  I  must  call  you 
Pearl  as  well  as  Daisy.  Oh !  my  darling,  how 
beautiful  you  are !  " 

Daisy  blushed  divinely,  and  lent  herself  will- 
ingly to  the  sweet  enchantment  of  his  presence. 
They  sat  in  the  wide  circle  of  one  of  the  windows, 
talking  over  the  old  days ;  and  in  Daisy's  face  was 
such  a  light,  such  peace  and  love,  as  would  have 


SWEET  SIMPLICITY  275 

struck  dread  and  almost  death  into  Eleanor's  heart, 
had  she  been  there  to  see. 

Presently  Everard  Lyttleton  came  in,  faultless 
in  costume,  a  picture  of  perfect  gentlemanliness, 
and  the  lovers'  conference  was  at  an  end.  He  too 
was  delighted  with  Daisy's  pretty  ways,  and 
young,  fresh  beauty. 

"  Wait  till  she  has  been  in  the  whirl  of  fashion 
a  year  or  two,"  he  said  in  a  melancholy  whisper. 
"  Sweet  simplicity  will  have  utterly  vanished,  and 
what  a  pity  it  will  be  ! " 

They  were  soon  joined  by  Eleanor,  who,  what- 
ever her  imaginings  had  been,  had  regained  her 
own  stately  yet  winning  manner,  and  the  four 
talked  merrily  till  dinner-time. 


276  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A   BITTER   JEALOUSY. 

LAUNCHED  upon  a  new  life,  Daisy  was  for  a 
time  thoroughly  engrossed  with  her  social  duties, 
surprises,  and  triumphs.  Receptions  were  the 
order  of  the  day.  Hops,  concerts,  the  theatres, 
and  social  gatherings,  of  the  night.  Everywhere 
her  success  was  simply  phenomenal.  Eleanor 
rejoiced  in  the  admiration  evoked  by  her  little 
cousin.  Small  and  spiteful  jealousies  were  un- 
known to  her.  Everywhere  she  brought  her  cousin 
to  the  front,  till  Daisy  learned  to  manage  her 
beautiful  voice  before  throngs  of  admiring  critics. 

"  We  must  have  your  cousin  for  a  song  at  our 
festival,"  said  the  wife  of  the  chief  justice,  after 
she  had  heard  Daisy  sing  once  or  twice.  "  She  is 
so  lovely.  I  can  fancy  her  standing  before  an 
audience  in  white  samite,  the  angel  of  beauty  and 
song." 

Eleanor  hesitated.  "  She  never  sang  that  way," 
she  said,  seeing  in  imagination  the  splendid  area 
in  front  of  the  stage,  the  thousands  in  full  costume, 


A  ST.   CECILIA  277 

strangers  and  critics  as  well  as  friends  and  admir- 
ers looking  on. 

"  Oh !  but  she  can.  She  seems  like  an  inspired 
St.  Cecilia  when  she  sings.  Beg  her  to  help  us, 
please  do.  We  are  none  of  us  professionals,  — 
with  the  exception  of  the  orchestra,  it  is  all 
home-talent ;  and  I  am  sure  her  name  will  draw." 

"  I  will  try,"  said  Eleanor,  and  she  did.  Daisy, 
after  a  long  siege,  gave  a  reluctant  consent.  She 
had  asked  Temple's  advice,  and  he  had  said,  — 

"  Do  it,  by  all  means." 

He  wished  all  the  world  could  hear  her,  in  his 
love  and  his  pride  of  her. 

Daisy  had  not  counted  upon  the  bewildering 
effect  of  a  fashionable  audience  in  full  dress. 
The  great  stage,  decorated  with  flowers,  held  an 
orchestra  of  some  of  the  most  celebrated  artists 
in  the  country. 

The  blaze  of  light,  the  diamonds,  as  seen  from 
the  place  where  she  stood  to  get  a  view  of  all  this 
splendor,  frightened  her. 

"  I  cannot  sing !  I  cannot  go  on  !  "  she  said, 
shrinking  back  like  a  frightened  child.  "  I  never 
thought  it  would  be  like  this  —  and  I  with  my 
unformed  voice." 

All  in  shining  white,  only  a  flower  at  her 
bosom,  she  realized  the  description  of  Dryden,  — 

"  Her  eyes,  her  lips,  her  cheeks,  her  features, 
Seem  to  be  drawn  by  Love's  own  hand." 


278  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

At  once  she  was  surrounded,  praised,  petted, 
coaxed.  Luckily  she  had  consented  to  add  her 
service  by  singing  a  simple  ballad.  Most  of  the 
amateurs  had  chosen  ambitiously  ;  so  that,  when  at 
last  the  young  girl  was  prevailed  upon  to  go  for- 
ward, she  had  no  misgivings  as  to  the  role  she  had 
chosen. 

Temple  sat  in  the  audience,  near  the  stage.  At 
first  the  tiers  of  beauty  and  brilliance  almost  took 
away  her  breath.  Only  here  and  there  she  saw 
the  faces  of  her  friends  ;  but  once  she  caught  sight 
of  Temple,  and  there  was  that  in  his  expression 
that  spurred  her  on  to  triumph.  It  was  anxious, 
almost  sad. 

"  He  shall  not  blush  for  me,"  she  said  to  her- 
self, and  straightened  her  slender  form.  The 
snow-white  folds  of  glistening  silk  were  not  whiter 
than  she  a  moment  before  that.  Now  a  slight 
color  crept  into  her  cheeks ;  and,  as  she  nerved  her- 
self for  the  effort,  a  murmur  of  admiration  went 
through  the  house. 

Then  she  sang,  —  divinely,  the  critics  said  the 
next  day.  Only  a  ballad,  but  genius  voiced  it, 
and  the  clear,  sweet  notes  fell  upon  dead  silence. 

Even  after  the  first  stanza,  came  deafening 
applause.  At  the  close,  the  great  audience  was 
carried  away.  Women  clapped  their  jewelled 
hands,  men  rose  in  their  seats  to  call  her  back. 


A  LITTLE  SONG  279 

The  sweet,  unaffected  little  song  had  touched 
every  heart  there. 

Back  she  came,  looking  now  like  a  small  god- 
dess, her  eyes  like  stars,  cheeks  and  lips  aflame, 
and  sang  another  little  hearthstone  song,  over  which 
the  people  were  wilder  than  before.  Temple  never 
once  applauded.  He  was  dizzy  with  the  intoxica- 
tion of  her  triumph,  which  seemed  like  a  tribute 
to  himself.  When  the  grand  bouquets  filled  her 
arms,  and  she  nodded  and  bowed  with  the  most 
perfect  abandon,  appearing  again  and  again,  at 
repeated  calls,  he  smiled  as  if  in  mockery  of  it  all. 
"  What  did  he  mean,"  Eleanor  asked  herself,  "  by 
making  no  demonstration  ?  His  eyes  devoured 
her,  but  he  sat  as  motionless  as  a  statue.  He  was 
the  only  one  there  who  paid  her  no  homage." 

The  President,  who  sat  with  his  family  in  the 
first  box  to  the  right,  was  eagerly  inquiring  who 
she  was.  And  yet  Senator  Temple  sat  unmoved. 
How  little  she  understood  that  smile,  or  guessed 
at  the  thought  that  prompted  it ! 

"  I  am  a  lucky  man  !  Had  the  stage  won  her 
first,  she  would  have  been  lost  to  me." 

Eleanor's  eyes  often  turned  to  him. 

"  Why  do  you  not  applaud  ?  "  she  asked  him,  as 
Daisy  came  out  for  the  last  time,  and  made  her 
lowest  courtesy,  smiled  on  all,  and  rushed  into 
retirement. 


280  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Why,  didn't  I  ? "  he  asked,  in  extreme  as- 
tonishment. 

"  Not  once." 

"  I  will  beg  her  pardon  as  soon  as  I  see  her,"  he 
said. 

"  I  really  wouldn't  say  anything  about  it,"  was 
her  response. 

Small  and  spiteful  jealousies  were  unknown  to 
Eleanor ;  but  something  in  Temple's  manner  that 
night,  set  her  to  thinking. 

"  She  looked  so  beautiful,"  she  murmured,  a 
pain  at  her  heart. 

"  More  than  that,"  he  said,  "  pure  —  almost 
angelic.  My  heart  did  her  full  homage." 

His  heart !     Another  stab. 

Was  it  possible  that  she  so  entranced  him  that 
he  forgot  to  give  the  usual  signs  of  approval? 
Daisy's  voice  was  something  phenomenal.  It 
seemed  to  Eleanor  that  she  had  never  heard  it 
before  to-night. 

"  If  I  had  her  voice,"  she  said,  "  I  would  go  on 
the  stage." 

"  God  forbid,"  said  Temple,  with  a  fervor  that 
somehow  rested  and  re-assured  her.  How  could 
she  tell  that  he  was  thinking  of  Daisy,  and  of 
Daisy  alone  ? 

No  need  to  say  that  Daisy  was  feted,  flattered, 
and  followed,  after  this. 


A   SECRET   BETWEEN   THEM  281 

"  Your  cousin  is  quite  the  prettiest  girl  in  the 
room,"  said  the  wife  of  a  prominent  official  to 
Eleanor,  at  one  of  the  parties  given  by  the  British 
minister.  "  Pray  tell  me,  is  she  a  relative  of 
Senator  Temple  ?  " 

"  A  relative  !  Oh,  no !  what  made  you  suppose 
that  ?  "  Eleanor  asked,  smiling. 

"I  —  oh !  nothing  in  particular.  I  only  hap- 
pened to  meet  them  in  the  conservatory,  together, 
and  I  fancied  they  might  be  related.  At  least, 
you  know,  there  seemed  to  be  a  certain  familiarity 
in  their  conference,  which  struck  me  —  well,  of 
course,  they  may  be  old  acquaintances,  you  know," 
she  added,  noticing  the  change  in  Eleanor's 
countenance. 

For  Eleanor  had  changed  color,  but  managed  to 
keep  her  self-control.  She  herself  had  met  the 
two  once  or  twice  quite  unexpectedly,  when  it 
seemed  to  her  there  was  a  certain  embarrassment 
in  their  manner,  as  of  persons  who  have  a  secret 
between  them  which  must  not  be  divulged. 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  Daisy  is  deceiving  me  ?  " 
she  asked  of  herself  more  than  once. 

She  remembered  that  in  the  Art  Gallery,  she 
had  seated  herself  one  day,  in  the  expectation  of 
meeting  a  friend.  The  friend  did  not  come,  so  she 
took  a  turn  in  the  rooms ;  and  in  one  of  them  she 
saw,  opposite  a  new  picture,  Daisy  seated  beside 


282  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

Temple.  What  startled  her  was  not  that  she  met 
them  there,  for  they  sometimes  took  walks  to- 
gether, but  that  just  before  they  recognized  her,  a 
look  passed  between  them  which  a  sudden  jealousy 
caused  her  to  interpret  but  in  one  way.  Then, 
when  she  would  have  passed  on,  they  saw  her, 
and  Daisy's  cheeks  were  flaming  roses,  while  he 
was  as  cool  and  self-possessed  as  ever.  Once  again, 
Everard  had  spoken  of  meeting  them  in  one  of 
the  parks  on  a  day  when  the  sunshine  made  a 
glowing  picture  of  sky  and  cloud  and  tree. 

"The  man  seems  to  monopolize  her,"  he  said 
moodily.  "  He  doesn't  give  a  fellow  a  ghost  of  a 
chance.  I  thought,  Eleanor,  he  was  your  lover." 

"  You  had  no  right  to  think  anything  of 
the  kind,"  she  retorted,  her  heart  almost  failing 
her,  while  she  strove  to  keep  her  tones  firm 
and  steady.  But,  oh  !  why  had  she  allowed  this 
man  so  to  possess  her  thoughts  ?  What  spell  had 
he  thrown  over  her?  Could  it  be  possible  that 
Daisy  had  enthralled  his  fancy,  that  he  loved  her  ? 

Eleanor  was  wretched  while  wrestling  with  her 
doubts  ;  but  Daisy  floated  on  in  her  new  paradise, 
unconscious  of  the  thorns  she  had  so  unwittingly 
planted  in  the  breast  of  the  cousin  she  had  learned 
to  love. 

"  I  am  wasting  my  time  to  no  purpose,"  she 
said,  one  eventful  morning.  "  When  I  came  here, 


FRIENDS  WHO  FLATTER  283 

it  was  with  the  intention  of  fulfilling  a  duty,  an 
almost  sacred  duty.  Mr.  Temple  has  been  kind 
enough  to  make  some  inquiries  for  me,  and  has 
found  a  teacher  to  whom  I  can  go  for  instruction 
in  singing." 

"  You  sing  delightfully  enough,"  said  Eleanor. 
"  It  don't  seem  to  me  that  you  need  a  teacher." 

"  So  many  of  my  friends  are  kind  enough  to 
say,"  Daisy  responded,  smiling,  "but  I  am  con- 
scious of  many  defects." 

"  Is  Mr.  Temple  one  of  the  friends  who  flatter 
you  ?  "  asked  Eleanor. 

Daisy  looked  up  from  her  crochet  needles,  as- 
tonished at  the  unwonted  sarcasm  in  the  voice. 
A  soft  red  had  crept  into  her  cheek.  Her  blue 
eyes  fell  under  Eleanor's  glance. 

"  Oh !  no,  indeed.  He  thinks  as  I  do,  that  I 
need  a  great  deal  of  instruction,"  she  answered  a 
little  falteringly.  "  So  he  was  kind  enough  to 
interest  himself  about  a  teacher." 

"  I  thought  he  knew  nothing  about  music," 
Eleanor  persisted. 

"  He  is  not  musical  by  any  means,"  Daisy  re- 
plied, "  but  he  is  passionately  fond  of  music." 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Temple  handsome  ?  "  Elea- 
nor asked,  as  if  under  a  stress  of  feeling  which 
she  could  not  resist,  and  which  prompted  her  to 
probe  Daisy's  inmost  thoughts. 


284  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"I  certainly  do,"  said  Daisy,  busying  herself 
with  her  worsteds,  in  order  to  hide  the  blushes 
that  were  now  painful. 

"  Would  he  make  a  good  husband  ?  "  Eleanor 
questioned,  growing  paler  as  Daisy's  roses  in- 
creased. "  I  have  reasons  for  asking." 

"A  good  husband?"  Daisy  dared  her  glances 
now.  What  was  the  use  of  trying  to  shield  her- 
self ?  "  Why,  yes  ;  why  not  ?  Has  he  not  every 
requisite  that  a  man  can  possess  for  making  the 
one  woman  of  his  love  happy  ? "  She  was  fast 
throwing  off  the  spell  which  had  seized  her  at 
Eleanor's  first  question,  and  was  wondering  vaguely, 
if  not  jealously,  what  her  cousin's  reason  could  be. 

"  You  do  not  think  him  cold,  pessimistic,  exact- 
ing, then  ?  "  Eleanor  asked  in  clear,  cutting  tones. 

"  Mr.  Temple  cold !  Oh !  you  do  not  know 
him.  Were  you  speaking  of  his  beliefs  ?  his 
religion  ?  If  so,  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  only 
that  my  brother  Arthur  believed  in  him,  and  was 
very  fond  of  him.  He  is  not  yet  a  churchman." 

"  But  you  believe  him  in  a  fair  way  to  become 
one,  evidently.  O  Daisy,  beware  !  " 

The  laugh  that  followed  this  speech  was  hard 
and  unnatural.  Daisy  sat  looking  at  her  cousin, 
bewildered  and  confused.  It  seemed  in  some  way 
as  if  Eleanor  was  angry  with  her,  that  she  was 
trying  to  hurt  her. 


THE  DEMON  OF  JEALOUSY  285 

"  Why  should  I  beware  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Because  a  man  without  religion  is  like  a  ship 
without  a  rudder.  No  one  knows  where  lie  will 
drift.  For  that  one  reason  a  woman  should  not 
dare  to  intrust  her  happiness  to  him." 

Daisy's  eyes  fell.  A  glow  of  indignation,  then 
a  half-triumphant  smile  succeeded  her  momentary 
fright. 

"  She  loves  him ! "  said  Eleanor  to  herself. 
"  Now  for  the  test  —  does  he  love  her,  or  is  he  seek- 
ing a  new  victim  ?  "  At  this  moment  the  girl  felt 
merciless.  Her  very  nature  seemed  changed.  In 
some  way  she  longed  to  humiliate  her  cousin,  to 
crush  her. 

More  beautiful,  more  gifted  though  she  might 
be,  what  right  had  she  to  the  love  of  this  man  to 
whom  she  herself  had  given  heart  and  soul  ?  The 
demon  of  jealousy  possessed  her,  and  for  the 
moment  made  her  deliberately  cruel. 

"  Of  course  Mr.  Temple  can  choose  from  among 
the  richest  and  most  beautiful  women  of  the  land," 
she  said  in  a  low,  hard  voice.  "  His  manner  is  — 
I  do  not  quite  know  how  to  express  it,  but  natu- 
rally, when  he  is  pleased,  very  caressing  and  lovable. 
You  must  not  be  deceived  by  it.  I  am  only 
warning  you.  In  my  opinion,  a  man  who  passes 
his  life  till  the  age  of  thirty-five,  unmarried,  sel- 
dom marries  at  all." 


286  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

Daisy's  soul  was  at  war  with  itself.  She  hated 
deception,  and,  not  for  the  first  time  or  the  second, 
felt  that  that  interpretation  might  be  candidly 
put  upon  her  conduct.  Her  quick  intuition  told 
her  at  once  the  reason  for  this  unusual  conversa- 
tion, and  of  Eleanor's  changed  manner.  "  Oh  !  it 
would  be  terrible,"  she  said  to  herself,  "if  this 
proud,  beautiful  woman  loved  the  man  to  whom 
she  herself  was  pledged."  What  should  she  do  ? 
Impulse  conquered. 

"  Dear  cousin  Eleanor,"  she  said,  with  downcast 
eyes,  though  her  embarrassment  was  gone,  and  her 
face  alight  with  a  noble  sentiment,  "  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  something  which  no  one  beside  my  own 
people  at  the  rectory  know." 

Eleanor  tried  to  smile.  She  felt  what  was  com- 
ing. A  pair  of  expressive  eyes,  melancholy  and 
mirthful  by  turns,  seemed  looking  into  hers.  Her 
heart  turned  sick.  But  should  she  show  any  emo- 
tion now,  she  felt  that  she  was  lost.  And  yet,  so 
helpless,  so  utterly  wretched  she  was !  for  in  one 
swift  moment  she  divined  it  all,  saw  Daisy's  heart 
as  in  an  open  book,  knew  what  gave  her  eyes  that 
beautiful  tenderness. 

"  You  are  to  keep  it  a  great  secret,  you  know," 
Daisy  went  on.  "  You  are  not  to  tell  your 
mother,  or  cousin  Everard." 

Eleanor  dumbly  shook  her  head.  Only  her  lips 
moved  a  little. 


A  MYSTERY  287 

"  And  I  know  I  can  trust  you,  utterly." 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  Eleanor  forced  her  dry  lips  to 
say. 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you.  Mr.  Temple  is  —  what 
shall  I  say  ?  —  not  engaged  to  me,  because  he  does 
not  like  engagements.  But  he  has  asked  me  to  be 
his  wife,  and  he  spoke  to  my  brother  before  he 
came  on  to  Washington.  I  suppose,"  she  added, 
simply,  "  after  everything  is  cleared  up,  we  shall 
be  married." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  breath- 
less, "  by  '  after  everything  is  cleared  up  '  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  myself,"  said  Daisy,  "  only 
Arthur  has  not  given  his  full  consent.  That  is 
why  we  have  been  keeping  silent." 

"Ah!  I  can  understand,"  said  Eleanor,  stunned 
and  faint.  "  Mr.  Temple  is  said  to  be  an  atheist." 

"  I  don't  care  who  says  it,"  Daisy  replied  quietly, 
"  it  is  not  the  truth.  He  has  the  best  and  highest 
aspirations.  He  is  trying  to  live  after  the  noblest 
ideals.  Indeed,  I  do  think  he  is  a  Christian,"  she 
added,  her  very  face  transfigured  while  pleading 
her  lover's  cause,  "  and  don't  know  it." 

"  Scarcely,"  said  Eleanor  with  dry  lips.  "  How 
ridiculous  it  must  have  seemed  to  you,  —  my  giv- 
ing you  advice,  and  all  that !  I  sincerely  beg 
your  pardon.  If  I  had  not  been  kept  in  the  dark, 
—  but  no  matter,"  she  added  with  a  laugh  that 


288  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

sounded  almost  like  a  sob.  "  You  shall  find  that 
your  confidence  in  me  is  not  misplaced.  I  wish 
you  a  great  deal  of  happiness,  cousin  Daisy." 

Presently  she  rose,  looked  out  of  the  window, 
and  left  the  room  humming  a  popular  air.  She 
went  straight  up-stairs  to  her  own  room. 

"  And  he  has  been  kind  to  me  because  of  her !  " 
she  said  with  a  dry  sob,  after  shutting  and  locking 
the  door.  "  And  I  couldn't  see  it !  And,  blind 
and  mad  that  I  was,  I  loved  him ! 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,"  she  went  on  fiercely,  smit- 
ing one  white  hand  against  the  other.  "  Oh ! 
lamentable.  If  I  could  only  have  known  it  before 
—  before  she  came  here.  Why  didn't  he  tell  me  ? 
A  hint  would  have  been  sufficient.  It  was  cruel 
of  him  !  Now  —  oh  !  I  am  dying !  It  would  be 
merciful  if  I  could  die  ! " 

She  threw  herself  prone  on  the  bed,  and  then  as 
suddenly  arose.  A  fierce  determination  gathered 
in  her  eyes. 

"  I  will  die,"  she  cried  in  a  smothered  voice, 
"  rather  than  give  way  to  this  passion,  like  a  silly 
girl !  I  will  trample  it  under  my  feet !  But,  oh, 
Heaven  !  how  I  love  him  !  "  and  again  she  sank 
back,  both  hands  clutched  against  her  bosom. 
Stifled  tears  which  she  battled  with,  burned  her 
eye-balls.  Ah !  for  how  many  weary  days  and 
sleepless  nights  would  she  thus  have  to  fight  with 


SHE  WENT  OUT  SINGING  289 

her  great  grief  ?  Suppose,  in  the  end,  it  should 
conquer  her ! 

Daisy,  meanwhile,  sat  looking  after  the  vanished 
figure  of  her  cousin,  a  troubled  expression  in  her 
eyes. 

"If  she  loves  him,"  she  said,  under  her  breath, 
"I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  not  having 
spoken  sooner.  And  yet,  she  went  out  singing ! 
But  her  face,  —  her  face  !  There  was  something 
there  that  haunts  me.  I  must  go  away  from  here. 
I  must  go  home." 

"  I  so  long  to  see  you  all,"  she  wrote  the  same 
week.  "  This  hurried,  exciting  life  begins  to  wear 
on  me.  I  am  •  not  sure  that  I  shall  ever  like  it. 
Eleanor  is  very  gay  ;  but  she  also  goes  to  church 
more  than  ever,  and  the  clergyman  calls  often.  He 
used  to  know  you,  brother  Arthur,  and  always 
speaks  so  kindly  of  you.  It  makes  me  home- 
sick. 

"  '  Wouldn't  I  look  well  in  a  Sister's  cap  ?  ' 
Eleanor  asked  me  one  day.  '  Sometimes  I  think 
that  will  be  the  end  of  my  career.'  And  she  is 
getting  to  be  very  fond  of  mission-work.  I  am 
very  much  disappointed  in  what  they  call  society 
women  here.  Many  of  them  are  among  the 
noblest  workers  in  Washington.  Mrs.  Lyttleton 
does  not  like  Eleanor's  self-imposed  tasks,  but  she 
has  very  little  influence  in  all  that  concerns  the 


290  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

higher  life,  and  I  fancy   Eleanor  will   have  her 
way. 

"  I  hope  the  dear  little  boys  keep  well.  Some- 
times it  seems  as  if  I  could  fly  to  see  them.  Kiss 
them  a  hundred  times  for  me  !  Tell  Zue  I  don't 
forget  her,  and  will  bring  her  something  pretty 
from  Washington  when  I  come  home.  Is  Margy 
queer  any  more  ?  Poor  old  Margy  !  remember  me 
to  her." 


EVIL  NEWS  291 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

RECALLED   BY  DEATH. 

"A  TELEGRAM  for  you,"  Eleanor  said  one 
morning,  as  she  came  in  where  Daisy  was  prac- 
tising. "  I  hate  these  things,  don't  you  ?  " 

Daisy  took  the  envelope  with  trembling  fingers. 
Her  face  grew  colorless.  A  thrill,  the  messenger 
of  evil  news,  ran  through  her  from  head  to  foot. 
She  looked  up  beseechingly  at  Eleanor,  who  stood 
white  and  statuesque,  gazing  down  upon  her. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  open  it?"  Eleanor  asked. 

"  Will  you  ?  "  and  Daisy  sank  helplessly  back, 
as  Eleanor  took  the  paper  from  her.  Daisy,  watch- 
ing, saw  the  look  that  came  into  her  face,  and  hid 
her  own  face  in  her  hands. 

"  Daisy  —  it's  bad,"  said  Eleanor.  Then,  after 
a  pause,  "  Daisy,  it's  terrible  !  " 

"  O  brother  Arthur !  "  sobbed  Daisy. 

"  No,  he  is  well,  so  is  his  wife  —  but  the  pretty 
little  twins  you  have  told  me  about  so  often." 

"  What  of  them  ? "  and  Daisy  looked  up, 
breathless. 


292  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  They  are  very  ill  —  past  hope,  it  says,"  said 
Eleanor  very  gently. 

"  And  —  of  course  they  want  me.  I  shall  go 
at  once,"  Daisy  said,  springing  up.  "I  know 
they  need  me  —  and  —  maybe  —  I  shall  be  in 
time  to  see  them.  The  sweet  darlings  !  I  didn't 
know  how  much  I  loved  them  ;  "  and  dashing  the 
tears  from  her  eyes  she  began  her  preparations  for 
returning. 

"Shall  Everard  notify  Mr.  Temple?"  asked 
Eleanor.  "  I  suppose  you  will  go." 

"  At  once.  I  wish  I  had  followed  my  impres- 
sions the  past  week,  and  gone  then.  Poor  Arthur ! 
his  heart  is  bound  up  in  those  two  beautiful  boys. 
And  if  Everard  will  speak  to  Mr.  Temple,  so  that 
I  might  just  say  good-by,"  she  faltered. 

She  had  decided  to  go  by  the  next  train.  There 
was  just  time  to  pack,  just  time  to  notify  Senator 
Temple,  and  not  a  moment  to  spare.  The  new 
senator  had  not  yet  made  his  appearance  by  train- 
time. 

"  Tell  him  I  am  sorry,"  Daisy  said  to  Eleanor, 
"  but  I  could  not  wait."  Eleanor  smiled  patiently. 

"  You  will  find  him  at  the  depot,"  she  said ;  and 
so  she  did. 

"  I  made  my  arrangements  to  go  with  you,"  he 
said. 

Everard  saw  them  both  comfortably  seated,  and 
then  went  home  to  growl  at  Eleanor. 


THE  SAD  STORY  293 

"  The  little  minx  has  cut  you  out  squarely,"  he 
remarked  with  a  man's  thoughtlessness.  "  I  told 
you  how  it  would  be.  There  was  no  getting  near 
her  when  Temple  was  round.  I  could  have  sworn 
every  time  that  he  was  in  love  with  her." 

"  She  is  welcome,"  was  all  Eleanor  said ;  only 
her  heart  seemed  sinking. 

"  I  wish  she  had  stayed  at  home,"  was  his  peevish 
rejoinder.  "I  was  pretty  hard  hit  myself,  con- 
found it." 

The  journey  was  unmarked  save  by  the  unflag- 
ging attention  and  cheerfulness  of  Temple,  who 
used  all  the  delicate  art  of  which  he  was  master, 
in  his  efforts  to  cheer  up  his  pretty  companion. 
Never  before  had  such  unselfish  solicitude  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  Daisy.  To  be  tenderly  cared  for, 
served  in  the  daintiest  way,  to  have  papers  and 
magazines  bought  for  her  use,  ripe  fruits  and 
other  delicacies  attainable  provided ;  and  all  with 
the  rare  tact  of  a  thoroughly  loving,  generous 
nature,  was  a  delight,  even  in  the  midst  of  her 
ever-present  sorrow. 

Their  arrival  at  the  depot  was  unnoticed. 
Temple  hired  the  only  carriage  that  happened  to 
be  there,  and  drove  directly  to  the  rectory.  Daisy 
looked  out  with  strained  eyes  as  they  came  in  sight 
of  the  house,  then  fell  back  with  a  faint  cry. 

Two  long  streamers  of  white  crape  told  the  sad 
story. 


294  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

Temple  pressed  his  lips  together.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  rector. 

"  It  will  not  be  best  for  me  to  go  in  now,"  he 
said  softly.  "I  will  see  you  to-morrow.  I  shall 
stay  here  a  week." 

He  helped  her  out  of  the  carriage,  and  waited 
till  the  door  was  opened. 

Daisy  went  slowly  and  reluctantly  in.  Temple 
had  taken  his  leave.  The  hall  that  led  into  the 
study  was  not  darkened,  neither  was  the  study, 
save  by  the  shadows  of  an  early  twilight.  On  the 
hearth  a  bright  little  fire  snapped  and  sparkled. 
She  could  hear  footsteps  overhead,  but  she  dreaded 
to  go  up-stairs. 

The  door  opened  from  the  parlor,  and  there 
stood  the  rector  himself,  white  and  hollow-eyed. 
Another  second,  and  Daisy  was  in  his  arms,  weep- 
ing convulsively  upon  his  bosom. 

"  Hush,  dear,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice,  patting 
her  as  he  had  so  often  patted  the  twins.  "  We 
must  be  patient  under  His  chastisement.  It  is  all 
of  mercy.  Come,  come,  my  darling — we  are  too 
much  like  spoiled  children.  We  must  be  men  and 
women,  strong  to  do  and  to  bear." 

"  O  Arthur !  how  can  you  be  so  calm  ?  "  she 
sobbed. 

"  I  am  only  trying,"  he  said,  then  stopped,  over- 
come by  emotion.  "  God  gives  me  strength,  dear," 


MARGY'S  WELCOME  295 

he  struggled  to  say.  "I  did  rebel  at  first;  but 
then  it  came  to  me,  the  briefness  and  sorrow  of 
life,  and  I  found  grace  to  be  silent." 

"  And  Mary  —  how  does  she  take  it  ?  " 

"  For  my  sake  she  keeps  up ;  I,  for  her  sake. 
But  for  the  mother  who  was  with  them  night  and 
day,  it  is  hard  —  poor  soul !  " 

"  Where  is  she  ?  "  Daisy  asked. 

"  Up-stairs.  Mrs.  St.  Albert  is  with  her.  That 
woman  is  a  ministering  angel." 

"  Shall  I  go  up  ?     Had  I  better  ?  " 

"  Yes,  child :  you  will  be  a  great  comfort.  Go 
see  the  poor  wife." 

Daisy  kissed  her  brother,  and  went  into  the  hall 
to  throw  her  wraps  aside.  It  occurred  to  her 
that  she  would  speak  to  Margy  before  she  went 
up-stairs.  In  some  way,  she  felt  she  must  gather 
strength  for  the  interview.  She  went  into  the 
kitchen.  Margy  was  making  the  tea.  She  came 
quickly  forward. 

"  Well,  Miss  Daisy,  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  she 
said,  and  there  was  a  restraint  in  voice  and  manner 
that  Daisy  had  never  noticed  before,  in  all  the 
woman's  varying  moods.  "We've  had  a  sad 
house  indeed,  since  this  morning  at  six  o'clock." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  said  Daisy. 

"  It  was  the  same  trouble  they  had  before,  poor 
little  dears,  and  they  such  pictures  of  health ! 


296  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

It  was  pneumonia.  The  doctor  couldn't  save 
them ;  he  said  so  from  the  first." 

"  If  I  could  only  have  been  here ! "  sobbed 
Daisy. 

"  Maybe  'twas  better  not,"  said  the  woman, 
quietly.  "  You  haven't  been  up-stairs  yet,  I  sup- 
pose. Won't  you  have  a  cup  of  tea  first  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  touch  a  thing,"  said  Daisy,  still 
wondering  at  Margy's  manner.  "  I  think  I  will 
go  up  now.  Zue,  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she 
added  in  a  voice  the  reverse  of  cheerful ;  but  the 
child  hung  about  her,  and  seemed  to  expect  some 
word.  "Has  she  been  good,  Margy?  " 

"  That  good  that  I'd  about  made  up  my  mind  to 
lose  her,"  was  the  answer,  "  till  yesterday  when 
she  tied  my  clothes-line  into  knots.  But  she  sat 
down  and  untied  it,  and  it  took  her  two  good 
hours." 

"  I'm  glad  she  has  remembered,"  said  Daisy, 
giving  the  child  the  kiss  she  had  been  longing 
for. 

When  she  went  out,  Margy  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  room. 

"Trials  never  come  singly,"  she  muttered  with 
a  troubled  face.  "  Who  would  have  thought, 
when  I  told  the  rector  all  my  story,  that  death 
was  near  the  house  ?  Poor  Miss  Daisy !  She 
little  thinks  what's  coming  next." 


NOT  FOREVER  297 

Daisy  went  softly  up  the  stairs.  With  every 
step  that  neared  the  room  where  Mary  wept  and 
would  not  be  comforted,  her  awe  increased.  She 
had  never  seen  death  but  once,  and  that  was  many 
years  ago.  How  still  it  was  !  She  went  into  her 
own  room  first.  Everything  was  as  she  had  left 
it.  Presently  Mrs.  St.  Albert  came  in. 

"  Why,  you  darling  !  "  she  cried,  "  I  thought  I 
heard  some  one  here,"  and  her  voice  was  very  low 
and  sweet.  "  Isn't  it  sad  ?  You  can't  think  how 
I  hate  to  give  them  up.  They  look  as  beautiful 
in  death  as  they  did  in  life.  Let  me  tell  Mrs. 
Prince  you  are  here." 

Another  step,  and  Mary  and  Daisy  were  in  each 
other's  arms.  Not  a  word  was  spoken,  but  the 
silence  was  intensified  by  the  stricken  mother's 
struggling  sobs. 

"  Indeed,  I  try  to  be  patient,"  she  said,  a  mo- 
ment afterward,  "  but,  oh !  to  feel  that  they  are 
gone  out  of  my  arms  forever !  " 

"  Not  forever,  Mary,"  said  Daisy. 

"  It  seems  so.  I  dare  not  say  it  to  Arthur ;  but, 
O  Daisy !  I  have  some  terrible  misgivings.  Where 
are  they?  How  can  they  be  happy  away  from 
me  ?  Who  will  take  care  of  them  ?  My  darlings  ! 
my  darlings !  O  God  !  how  can  I  bear  it  ?  "  and 
her  head  fell  on  Daisy's  shoulder. 

"  Many  a  poor,  torn  heart  has  said  the   same 


298  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

thing,"  and  Mrs.  St.  Albert  stood  beside  them. 
"  I  have  had  five  children,  and  I  am  childless." 

The  words  rang  on  the  hushed  air,  the  pathos 
and  thrill  in  them  touching  the  mother's  heart. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  them  some  day,"  the  speaker 
continued,  a  little  ring  of  triumph  in  her  voice. 
"  I  know  they  are  all  waiting  for  me.  I  am  sure 
they  have  had  the  sweetest  care  and  better  train- 
ing than  I  could  have  given.  They  were  the  gift 
of  my  Father,  and  are  being  held  in  trust  for  me." 

Mary  ceased  her  sobs.  A  solemn  joy  came  into 
her  face. 

"  I  must  believe  they  are  safe,"  she  said.  "  But, 
oh !  how  my  heart  and  my  arms  ache  for  them  !  " 

"  Come  in,  Daisy,  and  see  the  sweetest  sight 
you  ever  looked  upon,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Albert 
cheerfully.  "  Was  ever  the  signet  of  God  more 
visible,  than  on  their  peaceful  faces  ?  " 

Daisy  stood  there  awe-struck.  In  their  double 
crib,  side  by  side,  as  beautiful  as  cherubs,  the  light 
from  the  pale  rose-colored  curtains  falling  upon 
them,  lay  the  pretty  babies.  She  knelt  down, 
half-blinded  by  her  tears.  It  seemed  to  her  for  a 
moment  as  if  she  had  entered  with  them  the  gates 
of  Paradise,  so  lifted  was  she  by  a  sacred  joy. 
Then  the  keen  anguish  of  the  loss  came  back,  and 
she  wept  bitterly. 


A  PRIVATE  INTERVIEW  299 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

"I  DENY  EVERYTHING." 

SOME  indefinable  change  had  come  over  the 
rector.  Temple  rarely  saw  him,  and  when  he  did 
for  a  moment  or  two,  the  clergyman  was  either 
going  out  or  engaged.  At  first  Temple  attributed 
the  difference  in  his  manner  to  Jiis  great  bereave- 
ment ;  but  when  he  met  with  almost  studied  cold- 
ness, when  he  was  reluctantly  given  an  opportunity 
to  meet  Daisy,  who  was  as  beautiful  and  kind  as 
ever,  he  began  to  believe  there  were  some  other 
and  stronger  reasons.  He  had  arranged  his  affairs 
for  a  week's  absence,  and  the  days  were  flying  by. 
Finally  he  pleaded  for  a  private  interview  with 
the  rector ;  and  on  the  last  day,  Saturday,  it  was 
granted. 

Daisy  let  him  in,  and  stood  by,  smiling,  while 
he  took  off  his  wraps ;  for  it  was  cold  winter 
weather  now.  How  little  he  dreamed  of  the 
trouble  that  awaited  him,  and  that  it  would  be 
months  before  he  could  again  gaze  into  the  sweet 
face  grown  so  dear !  He  wished  to  arrange  matters 


300  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

for  a  speedy  marriage,  and  in  that  spirit  met  the 
grave,  stern  countenance  of  Daisy's  brother. 

"Sit  down,  Temple,"  said  the  latter,  ignoring 
the  hand  outstretched  towards  him.  "  I  have 
much  of  startling  importance  to  say  to  you." 

Then  there  was  silence.  Temple  stood  regard- 
ing him  with  a  blank  stare. 

"  I  came  here  prepared  to  give  you  one  or  two 
incidents  of  my  early  life,"  said  Temple,  depressed 
at  the  outset  by  that  indefinable  something  in  his 
friend's  manner  that  chilled  and  discouraged  him. 

"  You  need  say  nothing  more,  Temple.  I  know 
all  about  it." 

Temple  started  and  turned  pale. 

"Who  could  have  informed  you  !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Your  victim!" 

The  rector,  with  these  words,  brought  his 
clinched  hand  down  upon  his  study-desk  with  a 
force  that  set  all  the  things  upon  it  rattling.  His 
brow  contracted  angrily  over  his  sparkling,  indig- 
nant blue  eyes,  as  he  made  reply  again,  — 

"  The  woman  whom  you  wronged." 

There  was  silence  again.  Temple  never  flinched, 
only  turned  as  pale  as  death.  His  eye  met  that 
other  intense  gaze  without  a  tremor. 

"  The  —  woman  —  whom  —  I  wronged  ?  "  he 
repeated  in  a  steady  though  incredulous  voice. 

"  Yes ;  she  has  herself  told  me  her  pitiful  story. 


A  MAX'S  ANGER  301 

It  was  all  sad  enough  from  the  beginning;  but 
when  she  came  to  that  part  where  she  was  wooed 
and  won  by  a  scoundrel,  a  thing — no  man  — 
who  deserted  her  and  her  unborn  child,  flung  her 
off  as  you  would  an  old  glove  —  then,  sir,  I  felt 
such  a  loathing  that  I  had  ever  seen  you,  extended 
to  you  the  hospitality  of  my  house,  allowed  you 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  an  innocent  girl, 
whose  whole  life  may  be  blasted  by  a  knowledge 
of  your  treachery  and  black  ingratitude,  such  a 
loathing  as  I  cannot  express." 

Temple  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height. 
His  eyes  blazed  with  anger.  He  looked  magnifi- 
cent in  his  wrath. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  with  strong  emphasis,  "  do  you 
know  whom  you  are  talking  to  ?  " 

"  I  do.  To  a  senator  of  the  United  States ;  but 
I  consider  no  man  honorable  who  trifles  with  the 
happiness  of  the  woman  the  law  has  placed  in  his 
power." 

"  You  wrong  me,"  said  Temple,  who  stood 
drawing  his  breath  heavily,  and  was  evidently 
exerting  all  the  strength  he  could  command  in  a 
crisis  so  utterly  unexpected.  "  I  demand  the  proof 
of  these  preposterous,  outrageous  allegations.  Who 
has  been  trying  to  poison  your  mind  with  such 
infernal  falsehoods  ?  " 

"They  cannot  be  falsehoods,"  said  the  rector. 


302  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  It  was  with  the  utmost  reluctance  that  I  listened 
to  the  miserable  story,  but  as  the  proofs  came  —  I 
have  them,  Mr.  Temple  —  I  was  compelled  to 
believe.  Eleven  years  ago  —  please  listen,  and 
make  your  comments  afterwards,"  he  continued 
as  Temple  tried  to  speak  again,  "you  married  a 
young  and  innocent  girl,  who  was  in  the  employ 
of  a  theatrical  company.  For  one  year  you  cared 
for  her,  then  meanly  deserted  her  under  the  most 
cruel  circumstances.  The  poor  creature  drifted 
down,  fighting  the  wolf  from  the  door,  keeping, 
through  all,  her  own  self-respect,  till  there  came 
a  time  when  starvation  threatened  her.  Then  she 
went  down  to  one  of  the  docks  of  the  great  city 
of  New  York,  meaning  to  put  an  end  to  her  exist- 
ence. I  was  then  doing  missionary  work  among 
the  destitute  and  outcasts.  This  desperate  hour 
I  happened  to  see  her  and  followed  her.  Well,  at 
the  last  minute  I  prevailed  upon  her  to  forego 
her  purpose,  and  succeeded.  That  woman  has 
been  in  my  family  ever  since.  Margy,  you  can 
come  in." 

The  dining-room  door  opened,  and  Temple  was 
confronted  with  the  woman  who  considered  herself 
his  wife.  For  a  moment  he  stood  transfixed,  un- 
able to  move  or  speak.  Her  eyes  were  downcast, 
and  she  trembled,  moving  uneasily. 

"  This  is  the  man,  Margy.     Are  you  willing,  in 


THAT  IS  THE  MAN  303 

his  presence,  to  swear  to  the  truth  of  your  story  ?  " 
asked  the  rector. 

"  Yes,  sir.  That  is  the  man.  I  am  willing  to 
swear  it,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Why,  woman,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  Temple 
asked  sternly,  taking  a  step  nearer.  "  I  never  saw 
you  in  my  life,  till  I  saw  you  here." 

"  I  told  you  he  would  deny  everything,"  was 
her  despairing  response,  as  she  turned  to  the 
rector. 

"  Of  course  I  deny  everything,"  said  Temple 
furiously.  "  I  never  lived  in  New  York  City  a 
year  in  my  life.  I  was  born  in  Newark,  and  there 
was  my  business.  This  woman  is  mad,"  he  added. 
"  Let  her  produce  her  proofs.  Thank  God,  I  can 
substantiate  my  story.  I  do  deny  everything." 

"  I  have  the  proofs,"  said  the  rector.  "  You 
can  go,  Margy." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Prince,  are  you  crazy  too  ? 
What  does  this  all  mean  ? "  asked  Temple  in 
suppressed  tones.  "This  woman  labors  under  a 
hallucination.  She  is  crazy.  I  see  it  in  her  eyes. 
I  never  had  a  wife.  Great  God  !  has  Daisy  heard 
of  this  wretched  affair  ?  " 

"  Daisy  knows  nothing  about  it,"  said  the  rector, 
who  had  turned  to  the  papers  on  the  study-table. 

"Thank  Heaven  for  that!  A  wife!  a  child! 
New  York !  I  never  lived  in  New  York." 


304  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Eleven  years  is  a  long  period.  People  make 
it  convenient  to  forget  in  that  time.  New  York  is 
not  so  far  from  Newark." 

"Spare  your  sarcasm,"  said  Temple  angrily,  as 
he  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  floor.  The  hot 
impatience  of  youth  had  long  passed  with  him, 
but  the  wrath  in  the  man's  face  was  something 
terrible.  When  he  reflected  that  innocent  men 
had  before  now  been  placed  in  imprisonment  by 
designing,  unscrupulous  women,  his  heart  almost 
failed  him. 

"  You  said  you  had  proofs ! "  he  exclaimed, 
pausing  a  moment. 

"  Here  they  are,"  the  rector  responded.  "  This 
is  a  photograph  of  yourself  at  the  age  of  twenty- 
five.  You  cannot  deny  that  there  is  a  strong 
resemblance." 

"  I  swear  to  you  I  never  had  a  photograph  taken 
in  my  life,  not  even  for  campaign  purposes,  when 
they  half  worried  my  life  out  of  me  to  get  one," 
said  Temple. 

"  And  look  at  this,  will  you  ?  Is  that  your  sig- 
nature, Andrew  Temple?" 

Temple  started.  The  signature  was  almost  a 
facsimile  of  his  own.  There  were  only  one  or  two 
slight  differences,  which  might  easily  be  accounted 
for  on  the  score  of  age. 

"  What    diabolical    agency    can    there     be    at 


A  CURIOUS  CASE  305 

work  in  this  matter?"  he  exclaimed,  changing 
color. 

"Then  here  is  the  marriage  certificate."  The 
rector  smoothed  out  the  slightly  yellowed  folds, 
and  held  it  for  him  to  see.  It  cannot  be  denied 
that  he  secretly  feared  giving  it  into  his  hands. 

"  My  marriage  certificate  !  "  he  muttered  with 
a  harsh  laugh.  "  Come,  this  grows  interesting. 
How  do  you  know  but  I  have  had  two  or  three 
of  them?  You  might  as  well  show  me  half  a 
dozen  as  one.  Does  this  woman  want  me  to 
acknowledge  her  as  my  lawful  wife  ?  Is  that  her 
drift  ?  "  and  he  laughed  again. 

"  No ;  she  declines  to  know  you  other  than  as 
the  man  who  married  her.  If  the  thing  should  be 
legally  proved,  she  never  wants  to  see  you  again." 

"  She  is  very  kind,"  said  Temple  ironically. 
"  But  this  farce  has  been  played  long  enough,"  he 
added  in  an  altered  voice.  "  Prince,  you  don't 
believe  in  this  nonsense.  I  vow,  if  you  were  any 
other  than  the  man  you  are,  than  the  dear  friend 
you  have  been,  and  Daisy's  brother,  I  should  have 
knocked  the  breath  out  of  you." 

"  I  am  forced  to  believe  this  story,"  said  the 
rector  slowly,  "and  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 
have  it  get  in  the  courts." 

"  It  never  will,"  said  Temple,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  "  I  won't  even  plead  my  own  case.  But 


306  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

I  ain  very  awkwardly  placed.  Here  is  a  photo- 
graph which  I  swear  before  high  heaven  was  never 
taken  for  me,  a  signature  which  I  never  wrote, 
and  a  marriage  certificate  that  I  never  signed. 
On  account  of  these,  I  am  obliged  to  collect  evi- 
dence in  a  private  way  to  prove  that  the  whole 
thing  is  a  damnable  falsehood,  and  it  will  take 
time  —  which,  Heaven  knows,  I  had  rather  spend 
in  a  more  agreeable  manner/' 

"  Have  you  a  brother  or  a  cousin  who  might 
resemble  you  ?  "  asked  the  rector,  evidently  weak- 
ening, as  he  looked  at  the  superb  figure  and  face 
of  the  man  before  him. 

"No;  I  never  had  a  brother.  I  never  had  a 
cousin.  My  father  had  a  twin-brother,  a  man 
about  whom  the  less  said  the  better.  But  he  went 
off  to  Australia,  and  was  killed  long  before  I  was 
born.  Even  if  he  had  lived,  he  would  not  have 
been  a  young  man  ten  or  eleven  years  ago."  And 
he  sat  down  in  a  brown  study.  "  I  am  at  a  loss 
what  to  think,  how  to  meet  the  accusation  of  this 
woman,  who  evidently  believes  I  am  her  husband. 
Why,  man,  I  never  looked  upon  a  woman  with  a 
glance  of  affection  till  I  saw  your  sister.  She 
enchains,  enthralls  me.  I  love  her,  madly  —  my 
first  love !  I  have  position,  wealth,  everything 
that  would  tend  to  her  happiness,  and  now  comes 
this  miserable  complication.  I,  an  upright  man, 


A  NOBLE  DEED  807 

above  suspicion  even,  among  those  who  know  me, 
am  stained  in  your  eyes  —  for  I  must  appear  to  be 
a  miserable  villain.  But  just  here  I  might  as  well 
tell  you  the  story  I  came  to  tell. 

"  My  mother's  brother  adopted  me  when  I  was 
ten  years  old,  and  an  orphan.  He  was,  towards 
me,  kindness  itself.  His  wife  was  also  good  to 
me,  though  in  a  different  way.  She  was  a  beautiful 
woman,  but  wretched  and  spiritless  on  account  of 
the  loss  of  her  children.  Everything  that  my  uncle 
could  do  for  me,  was  done.  I  was  well  educated, 
and  I  hope  did  credit  to  my  teachers.  When  I 
was  eighteen  my  aunt  died,  and  not  long  after 
that  it  was  found  that  my  uncle  had  been  careless 
in  business  matters,  through  which  he  was  led  to 
commit  a  forgery.  My  poor  uncle  !  I  shall  never 
believe  he  was  in  his  right  mind  when  he  did  it. 
Soon  after  discovery  he  died.  Meantime  a  small 
fortune  was  left  to  me  by  a  distant  relation.  It 
was  but  little  more  than  half  the  sum  which  my 
uncle  had  dishonestly  come  by.  I  gave  it  all  up, 
to  satisfy  the  parties  who  had  lost  by  my  uncle's 
crime,  and  in  five  years  more  had  saved  enough  to 
pay  the  whole  amount.  That  is  my  confession.  I 
did  not  feel  that  it  was  honest  to  ask  for  your 
sister  till  I  told  you  the  humiliating  truth.  Yet,  you 
see,  I  was  in  no  way  to  blame  —  I  did  my  best." 

"  Temple,  this  is  a  strange  story,"  said  the  rec- 


308  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

tor,  evidently  at  a  loss  what  to  think.  "  I  certainly 
thank  you  for  your  confidence ;  nor  should  the 
matter  have  militated  at  all  against  your  suit, 
rather  have  redounded  to  your  honor;  yes,  very 
much  to  your  honor.  It  was  an  unprecedented 
thing  for  a  young  man  to  do;  a  noble  thing  to 
clear  the  stain  as  far  as  you  could  from  your 
uncle's  good  name.  But  —  this  other  graver 
charge  —  I  confess  it  puzzles  me.  If  it  were  true, 
of  course  our  friendship  would  be  at  an  end,  for 
that  is  a  crime  I  cannot  condone.  I  am  sorry  that 
circumstances  look  so  much  against  you,  and  will- 
ing to  own  that  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  mind  to 
believe  you  guilty.  Still,  till  the  matter  is  settled 
you  cannot  blame  me  if  I  request  you  not  to  see 
Daisy  again.  Make  some  excuse  to  her,  and  then 
bend  every  energy  to  unravel  this  mystery,  if 
mystery  it  is." 

"  You  ask  too  much  of  me,  Prince,"  said  Tem- 
ple. "  What  will  she  think  ?  What  excuse  can 
I  possibly  make  for  not  seeing  her  at  all  ?  It  will 
look  cowardly,  being  here,  to  leave  my  darling 
without  a  word.*' 

"  Very  well,  you  can  see  Daisy  here.  I  will 
step  into  the  next  room." 

"  That  is  very  gracious  of  you,  Prince,"  said 
Temple,  voice  and  movement  alike  sarcastic.  "  But 
you  give  me  your  word  she  knows  nothing  of 
this." 


A  GREAT  DISAPPOINTMENT  309 

"  Not  a  word ;  neither  she  nor  my  wife.  And, 
as  for  Margy,  you  cannot  blame  the  poor  creature, 
believing  as  she  does.  Her  life  has  been  a  very 
sad  one  ;  and  she  is,  in  reality,  the  daughter  of  a 
New  York  clergyman.  She  undoubtedly  is  firm 
in  the  belief  that  you  are  the  man  who  deserted 
her  in  her  extremity,  and  will  not  acknowledge 
her  in  your  prosperity." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  her,"  said  Temple.  "  Great 
Jupiter !  what  would  my  brothers  at  the  bar  say, 
if  they  heard  of  it  ?  What  would  my  colleagues 
in  the  Senate  say?  A  senator  of  the  United 
States  guilty  of  an  act  like  that,  and  trying  to 
brazen  out  his  innocence  by  perjuring  himself! 
That's  the  way  it  looks." 

"  I  confess  it  has  a  bad  look,"  said  the  rector. 
"  And  now,  shall  I  call  Daisy  ?  She  sits  with  my 
wife  a  good  deal  since  the  children  died.  We 
could  hardly  spare  her  just  now,''  and  his  voice 
trembled. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  Temple  coldly.  All  his 
manhood  protested  against  this  usage.  What 
should  he  say  to  Daisy  ?  Of  course  the  sad  cir- 
cumstance of  death  had  abridged  his  visits,  but 
not  to  have  one  last,  long,  sweet  converse  together ! 
He  had  come  there  hoping  to  have  everything 
settled.  His  mind  almost  refused  to  work  ;  his 
imagination  overpowered  him.  -  Suppose  he  could 


810  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

not  prove  his  innocence  ?  Men  had  been  adjudged 
guilty  on  slighter  evidence.  The  thought  sickened 
him.  The  mist  before  his  eyes  blurred  even 
Daisy's  graceful  figure  as  she  came  in  smiling. 

"  Daisy,"  said  Temple,  going  to  meet  her,  "  I 
find  I  must  take  the  four-thirty  train.  I  have 
therefore  but  a  few  minutes  in  which  to  bid  you 
farewell." 

Oh,  madness  !  this  cold,  calculating  speech,  and 
the  rector  within  hearing  —  when  he  had  hoped  to 
sit  with  her  for  hours  —  when  he  had  planned  to 
take  the  midnight  train,  so  as  to  have  the  whole 
evening  for  a  farewell  visit ! 

Daisy  looked  her  wonder  with  innocent  eyes. 
In  spite  of  himself  his  voice  sounded  hard,  and 
his  manner  was  cold.  How  could  he  talk  of  love, 
of  his  hopes  and  raptures,  after  what  had  passed 
between  him  and  the  rector  ?  It  was  simply  im- 
possible, with  her  brother  so  near,  to  act,  speak,  or 
look  like  himself.  It  was  only  when  he  went  into 
the  hall,  where  Jie  was  alone  with  her,  that  he 
caught  her  to  his  breast  with  passionate  words 
and  kisses. 

"  Only  believe  me,  Daisy.  Only  don't  doubt 
me ;  ivliatever  happens,  never,  never  doubt  me  ! " 
he  said  rapidly.  "  Promise  me." 

"  I  never  will,  whatever  happens,"  whispered 
Daisy. 


WHAT  TROUBLES  YOU  AND  HIM  311 

"  Your  brother  misunderstands  me,  but  be 
patient.  Only  a  little  while,  and  I  shall  come  to 
claim  you.  Meantime,  have  perfect  trust,  as  per- 
fect as  I  have  in  you." 

"You  need  not  fear,"  Daisy  said,  with  an  en- 
chanting smile,  though  her  lip  quivered  a  little. 

"  I  dare  not  think  what  life  would  be  without 
you,"  he  whispered.  "  Remember,  I  am  planning 
all  the  time  for  our  future,  together." 

"  I  will.     Tell  Eleanor  to  write  to  me." 

"  Yes  —  and  about  my  writing.  We  will  settle 
all  that  when  I  hear  from  your  brother,"  he  added 
hastily  —  and  Daisy  was  left  alone. 

"  What  troubles  him  and  you  ?  "  asked  Daisy,  as 
she  went  into  the  study  where  her  brother  was 
preparing  to  write. 

"  Little  sister,  it  is  something  that  I  hope  will 
soon  be  happily  settled.  Let  us  wait  a  while,  and 
in  the  mean  time  ask  me  no  questions." 

When  he  spoke  in  that  way,  Daisy  knew  there 
was  no  use  in  prolonging  the  interview.  She  went 
silently  up-stairs,  grieved  and  despondent. 

"  He  told  me  to  trust  him,  and  I  will,"  she 
repeated  to  herself,  "  but,  oh !  what  can  it  all 
mean  ?  " 


312  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

WHAT   DAISY  FOUND. 

THE  next  morning  while  going  down-stairs, 
Daisy  picked  up  a  little  memorandum  book  which 
she  supposed  had  fallen  from  her  pocket  to  a 
corner  of  the  staircase.  It  was  a  tiny  affair  with 
white  ivory  covers  that  slid  round  a  small  pivot 
to  enable  the  pages  to  be  used.  Each  of  the 
family  had  one,  and  Daisy  put  it  in  her  pocket. 
Then  she  went  down-stairs  to  breakfast,  and  chatted 
and  waited  upon  table,  trying  to  still  the  ache  in 
the  two  hearts  beside  her,  and  cheat  them,  if  pos- 
sible, of  a  little  of  their  sorrow.  In  this  she  suc- 
ceeded fairly  well.  Mary  smiled  once  or  twice 
at  her  piquant  sallies ;  and  after  breakfast  Mrs.  St. 
Albert  came  in  with  a  budget  of  news  concerning 
the  church  social  which  was  to  come  off  during 
the  week,  so  Daisy  was  left  to  herself,  and  ran  up 
to  her  room  to  complete  some  unfinished  work  in 
the  way  of  letter-writing. 

She  was  constantly  pondering  on  what  might 
be  the  cause  of  Temple's  hasty  departure.  It 


I  WILL  NOT  DOUBT  313 

must  have  been  some  decision  on  the  part  of  her 
brother  —  something  he  had  insisted  on  during 
that  last  interview.  Was  it  that  Temple  should 
keep  silence  for  a  certain  time  ?  Was  his  conduct 
to  undergo  investigation?  What  could  there  be 
in  his  life  that  needed  clearing  ?  Well,  she  would 
be  patient ;  she  must  be  patient,  because  she  had 
promised  him,  lying  against  his  heart.  She  must 
trust,  and  never,  never  doubt  him.  Had  she  not 
also  promised  that  ? 

"  I  never  will,"  she  said,  "  no  matter  what  comes, 
I  will  not  doubt  him." 

Then  she  gathered  her  writing  materials,  prepar- 
atory to  answering  Eleanor's  last  letter. 

Involuntarily  she  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket 
where  the  tiny  memorandum  book  was  snugly 
ensconced.  In  that  she  kept  the  dates  of  her  let- 
ters, for  she  was  a  most  methodical  little  person. 

It  lay  in  her  hand,  an  innocent-looking  thing, 
yet  with  venom  enough  in  its  pages  to  poison  a 
loving  heart.  At  the  first  entry  her  glance  was 
rivetted,  — 

"Mem.  Margy's  story.  She  declares  herself 
to  be  the  lawful  wife  of  Andrew  Temple. 

"  Mem.  Married  when  nineteen.  Proof,  —  his 
photograph,  his  letters,  the  marriage  certificate,  all 
in  my  possession.  Comparing  the  autograph  with 
letters  from  him,  find  similarity  perfect. 


314  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

"  Mem.  Margy  is  clergyman's  daughter  —  suf- 
fered much,  etc.  Of  course  she  has. 

"  Mem.  I  must  write  Temple  down  —  scoundrel ! 
Must  have  a  chance  to  clear  himself  —  if  he  can. 
Pray  to  God  he  may.  Charges  and  proofs,  over- 
whelming. Margy  willing  to  swear  to  them." 

By  this  time  the  frightened  girl  became  fully 
aware  that  the  book  in  her  possession  belonged  to 
her  brother.  The  awful  accusations,  things  that 
had  never  entered  her  innocent  mind,  struck  on 
her  loving  heart  like  a  thunderbolt.  She  sat  there 
like  one  changed  to  stone,  chill  after  chill  throb- 
bing through  her  frame,  never  for  a  moment  lifting 
her  eyes  from  the  book.  What  was  she  to  think  ? 
Could  it  be  possible  that  the  man  who  had  pro- 
fessed to  live  an  honorable  life  could  be  guilty  of 
a  crime  like  this  ? 

"  Monstrous  and  unnatural !  "  she  murmured. 
"  I  can  not  and  will  not  believe  it !  " 

Through  the  stillness  rang  that  one  throbbing 
sentence,  "  Whatever  happens,  never,  never  doubt 
me!" 

"  Never  !  "  she  said,  with  pale,  parted  lips. 

"  Meantime,  have  perfect  trust  in  me,  as  perfect 
as  I  have  in  you." 

"  I  will,  I  will,  my  Andrew,"  she  cried  with  a 
choking  sob.  "  It  would  kill  me  to  look  back  in 
the  years  to  come,  and  remember  that  I  doubted 
you." 


WHAT  DOES  SHE   MEAN  315 

And  now,  having  by  the  merest  chance  placed 
herself  in  such  a  position,  what  was  she  to  do  ? 
Her  first  impulse  was  to  rush  down-stairs  and  face 
her  brother,  with  these  unwelcome  charges  in  her 
hand.  She  rose  to  do  so,  but  she  had  over-esti- 
mated her  strength.  A  deathly  faintness  came 
over  her.  She  felt  herself  falling,  and  snatched 
at  the  bottle  of  smelling-salts  that  always  stood 
on  her  dressing-table. 

"  Why,  why  did  I  find  it?  "  she  groaned.  "  Was 
it  a  providence  ?  If  so,  unkind !  unkind !  to  him 
and  to  me.  Andrew  Temple,  the  husband  of  our 
Margy.  Andrew  Temple,  proud,  fearless,  hand- 
some, spotless !  to  be  charged  so  foully  !  So  this 
is  the  outcome  of  all  her  strange  conduct.  What 
does  she  mean  ?  Letters  —  photograph  —  the  — 
certificate  of  marriage  !  "  she  gasped.  "  Oh  !  God 
of  mercy,  give  me  faith,  faith !  I  do  not  believe 
one  word  of  it  !  " 

She  stood  up  as  she  said  this,  cheeks  and  eyes 
on  fire,  and  had  only  time  to  hide  the  book,  for 
Mary  came  in  from  her  room,  her  eyes  wistful,  her 
manner  despondent. 

"  O  Daisy  !  "  she  rather  moaned  than  spoke, 
"  the  house  seems  so  empty  !  I  find  myself  going 
from  room  to  room,  searching  for  something  I  can- 
not find.  What  a  world  it  is  !  " 

Then  she  caught  sight  of  Daisy's  face. 


316  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Why,  child,  you  are  in  a  high  fever,"  she  said, 
with  a  cry  of  dismay.  "Your  head  is  like  fire. 
O  Daisy !  are  you  going  to  be  sick  ?  I  tried  to 
find  you  last  night  in  my  dreams.  I  am  hunting, 
hunting  every  night  for  somebody.  What  has 
happened,  Daisy,  to  make  you  look  like  this  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  faltered  Daisy,  catching  her 
breath.  "  There  is  some  misunderstanding  be- 
tween Arthur  and  Mr.  Temple.  It  is  very  miser- 
able ;  "  and  Daisy  could  bear  the  strain  no  longer, 
but  burst  into  tears. 

"  What  is  the  trouble,  dear  ?  "  Mary  asked,  try- 
ing gently  to  force  the  clasped  hands  apart. 
"  Can't  you  tell  me  ?  " 

"  Mary !  "  called  the  rector  imperatively  from 
the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

His  wife  went  to  the  door. 

"  Have  you  seen  my  little  ivory  memorandum, 
the  daily  one  ?  I  have  mislaid  it." 

"  No,"  said  Mary. 

"  Ask  Daisy,"  came  from  below  in  a  still  more 
anxious  tone. 

"  Have  you  seen  it  ?  "  Mary  turned  to  Daisy. 

"  O  Mary  !  what  shall  I  say  ?  "  She  flung  the 
book  to  the  floor,  shivering.  "  Save  me,  Mary  ! 
Pick  it  up  and  say  you  found  it.  I  am  unhappy 
enough  now  ;  and  he  would  be  so  angry  !  Heaven 
knows  I  looked  at  it  innocently." 


SOMETHING  TERRIBLE  317 

Mary,  dazed  and  wondering,  picked  up  the 
book.  She  would  have  questioned  Daisy,  but  was 
warned  by  the  anguish  in  her  eyes. 

"  Here  it  is,  Arthur,"  she  said,  going  towards 
the  stairs. 

"Oh,  thanks!  where'd  you  find  it?"  he  asked, 
carelessly. 

"  In  the  room,  by  the  bed." 

"  Oh  !  all  right.  I  must  have  dropped  it  there," 
and  he  went  on  in  the  study. 

"  How  I  hate  myself,"  sobbed  Daisy,  "  for  making 
you  do  that !  " 

"  No  harm,"  said  Mary.  "  I  told  the  exact  truth, 
or  very  nearly,"  she  added  with  an  odd  little  expres- 
sion. "  But,  Daisy,  what  was  there  in  it  that  you 
shouldn't  have  seen  ?  It  must  have  been  some- 
thing extremely  unpleasant  to  throw  you  into  this 
burning  fever.  Lie  down.  Let  me  bathe  your 
head." 

"  It  was  —  something  terrible  —  but,  don't  ask 
me  to  tell,  please ;  and  it  only  concerns  me,"  said 
Daisy,  allowing  Mary  to  lead  her  to  the  bed. 

"  Was  it  —  about  —  Mr.  Temple  ?  "  Mary  asked. 

"  Please  don't  ask  any  questions,  dear.  I'll  tell 
you  all  in  time.  And  Mary,  if  you  love  me,  don't 
question  Arthur.  That  would  be  worse  than  all, 
for  me." 

"  No,   dear ;    only    pray    stop    trembling  —  you 


318  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

can,  if  you  only  exercise  your  will.  Suppose  it 
should  turn  to  a  chill  !  "  pleaded  Mary.  "•  I  only 
thought  of  Temple,  because,  do  you  know,  Daisy, 
there  must  have  been  some  trouble  between  them  ! 
He  never  speaks  of  him,  and  jiis  name  used  to  be 
often  on  Arthur's  lips,  you  know.  I  will  confess 
that  I  have  often  felt  —  that  he  —  now  you  are 
excited  again." 

"  There  never  was  a  more  honorable  gentleman !  " 
Daisy  exclaimed.  "  Not  one  word  shall  be  spoken 
against  him  in  my  presence.  There  is  a  —  a  mis- 
understanding —  nothing  more.  Arthur  told  me 
so  himself.  Something  that  will  be  honorably 
settled  very  soon." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Mary.  Her  voice  sounded 
cheerful  enough,  but  she  shook  her  head  dubiously 
when  Daisy  was  not  looking.  "  Perhaps,  if  you 
try  and  go  to  sleep  now,  you  will  feel  better ;  "  and 
Mary  pulled  down  the  shades,  kissed  Daisy  on  the 
forehead,  and  left  the  room. 

At  dinner-time  Daisy  was  too  ill  to  go  down- 
stairs. 

"  Poor  little  one !  "  said  the  rector  pityingly. 

"  Was  there  a  quarrel  ?  "   Mary  ventured  to  ask. 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  her  husband,  but 
he  looked  troubled. 


A  LONG,  LONG  EPISTLE  319 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

ELEANOR'S  LETTER. 

A  LETTER  came  from  Eleanor  in  answer  to  her 
own,  on  the  following  week.  Daisy  had  recovered 
from  her  indisposition,  and  in  spite  of  the  warn- 
ing of  the  old  doctor,  who  predicted  malarial 
fever,  had  risen  from  bed  and  resumed  her  duties 
both  out  doors  and  in. 

Eleanor's  letter  somewhat  revived  her  hopes. 

"  I  have  not  found  the  time  nor  yet  the  heart  to 
write  you  since  your  great  loss,"  thus  ran  the 
letter,  "  but  now  I  am  going  to  inflict  a  long,  long 
epistle.  We  are  still  among  the  gayest  of  the 
gay ;  and,  in  fact,  Washington  society  was  never 
more  brilliant.  The  ball  given  by  the  Chinese 
Ambassador  last  night  was  so  gorgeous  an  affair 
that  I  shall  not  attempt  to  enter  into  particulars. 
At  the  close  I  was  presented  with  a  fan  that  is 
worth  its  weight  many  times  in  gold.  Crusted 
with  diamonds  !  think  of  that  for  a  souvenir  ! 

"  And  yet,  dearest,  sometimes  I  am  so  weary  of 
it  all ! 


320        IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Mamma  enjoys  it,  and  holds  me  rigidly  to  all 
the  requirements  of  our  social  life  with  a  per- 
severance worthy  of  a  better  cause.  If  ever 
I  do  get  away  from  it,  it  will  be  only  under 
protest. 

"  You  should  go  with  me  on  our  church-society 
rounds.  If  I  were  to  tell  you  half  the  squalid 
sights  I  see,  the  miserable  wrecks  of  men  and 
women  who  have  never  had  a  fair  chance  for 
morality,  it  would  make  you  very  sad.  A  young 
girl,  just  your  age,  committed  suicide  yesterday, 
because  of  hunger  as  well  as  heart  sorrow.  Oh  ! 
she  was  so  pretty !  Many  a  girl  in  society  might 
have  envied  her  her  beautiful  features.  What  can 
be  done  for  these  unfortunates?  Sometimes  I 
think  I  shall  spend  my  life  among  them  as  a  Sister, 
either  here  or  in  some  great  city.  Do  you  not 
think  that  a  fine  career  for  a  Washington  belle  ? 
When  I  speak  of  it  to  my  step-mother,  she  frowns ; 
when  I  even  so  much  as  hint  of  it  to  my  rector, 
he  is  delighted. 

" '  What  good  you  might  do  ! '  he  says.  '  It  is  a 
life  to  be  envied  !  '  I  don't  know.  The  world  don't 
satisfy  me,  so  I  must  try  and  find  happiness  some 
other  way.  Tell  uncle  Arthur  to  come  on  to 
Washington.  I  will  be  guided  wholly  by  his 
advice,  if  he  will. 

"  Our  friend  the  senator  is  moping.     He  rarely 


WHAT  HAVE  YOU  DONE        321 

gives  us  the  light  of  his  countenance.  To  tell 
the  truth,  the  light  is  quite  quenched,  gone  out. 
What  did  you  people  do  to  him  ?  It  is  only  since 
he  has  returned.  You  remember  bright  little 
Jenny  McCauly?  Her  head  seems  completely 
turned ;  she  can  talk  of  no  one  else  but  Senator 
Temple.  She  thinks  it  frank  and  child-like,  no 
doubt,  but  I  read  her.  She  is  in  love  with  him. 
He  don't  know  it.  These  great  men  are  so  stolid 
in  matters  of  that  kind.  Forgive  me,  dear  cousin 
—  but  I  ask  again,  what  have  you  done  to  him  ? 
He  is  rather  a  melancholy  sample  of  an  accepted 
lover.  I  saw  him  in  the  Senate  the  other  day. 
His  eyes  were  searching  among  documents ;  and 
then,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  seemed  to  forget,  and  his 
thoughts  seemed  miles  away.  (Of  course  they 
were.)  Still,  there  was  an  expression  of  anxiety, 
almost  distress,  on  his  face,  that  I  never  saw  there 
before.  It  was  a  hunted  look ;  and  he  is  so  pale 
and  grave  !  Again  I  ask,  What  have  you  done  to 
him  ?  Delayed  the  marriage  ?  While  it  makes 
him  exceedingly  interesting,  I  do  not  fancy  that 
startled,  moody  expression.  He  never  smiled  once 
during  the  session,  and  I  have  heard  that  people 
watch  for  his  smile.  Even  while  all  the  others 
were  laughing  at  an  exceptionally  witty  speech, 
he  was  as  solemn  as  an  owl.  You  might  wonder 
why  I  watched  him  so  closely.  My  dear,  is  he  not 


322  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

coming  into  the  family  ?  I  believe  I  will  send  him 
to  bring  you  back  here.  Naturally  we  wish  to 
see  more  of  him,  but  he  seems  to  have  eschewed 
our  society." 

"  A  hunted  look  !  " 

Daisy  mused  over  the  words.  If  indeed  there 
had  been  a  grain  of  truth  in  that  frightful  accusa- 
tion, then  no  wonder  if  he  looked  hunted. 

But  there  was  not.  Daisy  struggled  against 
the  temptation  to  dwell  upon  the  thought.  She 
avoided  Margy,  and  Margy  avoided  her.  Zue 
was  no  longer  a  tie  between  them.  Daisy  shud- 
dered from  head  to  foot  one  day  when  she  fancied 
she  saw  in  the  child  a  strong  likeness  to  Temple, 
and  then  felt  a  quick  disgust  of  herself  for  the 
thought.  She  would  be  loyal ;  she  would  keep 
her  promise  ;  and  her  true  heart  sustained  her,  and 
kept  her  courage  high. 

All  through  Eleanor's  letter  ran  a  subtle  asser- 
tion of  her  love  for  Temple.  No  one  else  but 
Daisy  could  have  read  between  the  lines.  That 
was  the  secret  of  her  aversion  to  society.  It 
was  that  that  led  her  to  crave  work  and  soli- 
tude. 

"  Eleanor  is  a  noble  creature  !  "  she  said  as  she 
folded  the  letter,  "  far  more  beautiful  than  I,  and 
with  a  larger  soul  than  mine.  What  would  she 
say  to  this  monstrous  charge  —  this  insult  both  to 


A  WELCOME  VISITOR  323 

the  morals  and  dignity  of  the  man  we  both 
love  ?  " 

And  so,  day  by  day,  Daisy  waited.  Rush  Severn 
had  come  back,  and,  though  extremely  cautious  in 
her  manner,  Daisy  could  not  avoid  meeting  him. 
Evidently  his  long  absence  had  not  cooled  the 
ardor  of  his  affection.  And  Daisy  was  so  miser- 
able that  his  occasional  visits  were  an  agreeable 
diversion.  She  hoped  that  he  had  changed  from 
the  lover  to  the  friend.  And  so  he  thought,  but 
he  had  calculated  too  much  on  his  strength. 

He  met  Daisy  the  first  Sunday  after  his  return, 
in  her  old  place  in  the  choir.  Many  curious  eyes 
were  watching  them  both.  She  was  unaffectedly 
glad  to  see  him,  and  said  so.  On  his  part,  as  her 
beautiful  voice,  perfected  by  study,  rang  out  under 
the  arched  roof,  he  felt  all  the  slumbering  ardor  of 
his  soul  awaken  and  rush  out  towards  her.  She 
was  still  —  he  thought  —  fancy  free.  She  had, 
perhaps,  missed  him  a  little  ;  perhaps  regretted  his 
absence.  Why  should  he  not  take  courage,  and 
try  again? 

He  accordingly  became  a  visitor  at  the  house, 
where  he  was  very  welcome  to  the  rector  and  his 
wife,  and  naturally  Daisy  felt  a  modicum  of 
pleasure  in  his  society.  His  music  was  always 
charming,  and  time  hung  less  heavy  on  her  hands. 
Altogether,  his  presence  of  an  evening  became  an 


324  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

event  that  the   family   looked  forward  to  with 
pleasure. 

Meantime  no  word  came  from  Temple.  He  had 
not  even  written  to  the  rector,  as  Daisy  learned. 
And  still  with  a  holy  faith,  Daisy  trusted  him. 


WHAT  CAN  IT  MEAN  825 


CHAPTER   XXXVI. 

FAITHFUL  TO   HER   LOVE. 

ONE  morning  the  rector  came  to  luncheon  with 
a  city  journal  in  his  hand. 

"  I  find  that  I  must  go  to  New  York,"  he  said, 
handing  the  paper  to  his  wife,  and  pointing  to  a 
paragraph  lined  with  ink,  and  which  read  as 
follows  :  — 

"  M.  G.  Saxton,  Attorney-at-Law,  would  like  to 
have  an  interview  with  the  Rev.  Arthur  Prince, 
once  lay-reader  and  missionary  of  the  Episcopal 
church,  in  New  York  City.  If  this  notice  reaches 
that  gentleman,  now  a  full  rector  in  some  part  of 
the  State,  or  in  some  adjoining  State,  he  will  hear 
of  something  to  his  advantage  by  calling  at  this 
office,  1667  -  -  St.,  New  York  City." 

"  What  can  it  mean  ?  "  Mary  queried. 

"  Surely  what  ?  "  the  rector  made  reply.  "  That's 
a  question  I  ask  myself.  Fortunately  I  have  a 
little  business  matter  to  attend  to  in  New  York, 
which  I  have  been  putting  off  from  week  to 
week." 


326  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

"  Somebody  has  left  you  a  legacy,  maybe,"  said 
Daisy. 

"  I  am  not  sanguine  as  to  that,"  said  the  rector. 
"  I  suppose  I  really  ought  to  go  —  stop !  mission- 
ary work  !  "  —  a  quick  light  passed  over  his  face, 
as  if  some  thought  of  more  than  ordinary  impor- 
tance had  struck  him  —  "  yes,  I  am  sure  I  ought 
to  go." 

"•Why  not  write?"  asked  Mary.  A  thought 
had  also  struck  her.  The  babies  gone  out  of 
her  life  —  the  husband  gone  out  of  her  sight  — 
how  could  she  live  and  bear  it? 

"  Because,  as  I  remarked  before,  I  have  business 
connected  with  my  life-insurance  that  ought  to  be 
attended  to,"  he  answered.  "  Now,  I  propose  to 
go,  but  only  on  one  condition." 

"  What  is  that?  "  both  women  asked. 

"  That  Mary  goes  with  me." 

The  wife's  heart  bounded,  then  sank  again. 
She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  faint  and  trembling. 

tk  Don't  ask  that  of  me,  Arthur.  Indeed,  indeed 
I  haven't  the  courage." 

"  Then  I  shall  remain  at  home." 

"  But  will  your  business  suffer  ?  "  asked  Daisy. 

"  Of  course  it  will  suffer." 

"  Then  go  by  all  means,  Mary.  I  will  help  you 
to  get  ready,"  Daisy  said. 

"  And  leave  you  here  alone  !  "  said  Mary. 


A   RELIEF  FOR  DAISY  327 

She  did  not  dream  what  a  relief  this  would  be 
to  Daisy.  To  escape  from  the  eyes  that  seemed 
now  and  again  trying  to  read  her  very  soul ;  to 
lose  that  ever  constant  sense  of  being  on  guard 
against  a  word  or  a  glance  that  might  betray  her 
unrest,  sometimes  her  anguish ;  to  be  alone  where 
she  could  give  free  course  to  her  feelings, —  meant 
almost  heaven  to  Daisy,  just  now. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  she  spoke  up  quickly.  "  I  can 
take  as  good  care  of  the  house  as  you.  Besides, 
there  are  Margy  and  Zue.  I  sha'n't  be  alone." 

And  yet,  to  be  in  the  house  with  Margy  and 
Zue  was  the  only  drawback  to  her  satisfaction. 
Naturally  she  would  be  brought  more  into  contact 
with  Margy,  from  whom  her  very  soul  recoiled 
sometimes  with  shuddering  and  dread. 

But  she  looked  at  Mary  and  felt  that  her  own 
selfishness  was  horrible,  as  she  noted  the  change 
in  her  bright,  pretty  face,  the  wan  cheeks,  the 
hollow  eyes,  under  which  black  circles  were  form- 
ing. It  took  time,  and  much  reasoning,  but  Mary 
was  persuaded  to  go  at  last ;  and  the  effort  of  get- 
ting ready  changed  the  current  of  her  thoughts, 
giving  her  an  animation  that  had  long  been  foreign 
to  her. 

Daisy  was  very  much  exercised  over  that  para- 
graph in  the  paper.  The  rector  did  not  say,  but 
she  divined  at  once  who  had  sent  the  paper,  for 


328  IF  SHE   WILL,   SHE   WILL 

the  envelope  was  post-marked  Washington,  and 
Temple  took  all  the  New  York  papers.  She  had 
hunted  up  the  envelope  and  found  it  at  last,  torn 
and  crumpled,  in  the  waste-basket.  As  if  it  had 
been  some  sacred  relic  she  carried  it  to  her  room, 
and  gloated  over  it  because  his  hand  had  written 
the  fine,  steady  characters. 

At  last  she  saw  the  carriage  drive  off,  and  went 
up-stairs  to  the  welcome  solitude  of  her  room. 
Margy  and  Zue  had  gone  along  with  the  rector 
and  his  wife  in  order  to  take  the  carriage  back. 
Empty  indeed  the  house  seemed  to  Daisy,  who 
had  never  been  left  before  with  such  a  responsi- 
bility. For  one  week  she  was  to  be  alone.  Call- 
ers would  come,  without  doubt,  and  young  friends 
to  spend  the  evenings.  Rush  Severn  was  sure  to 
come  ;  and  Daisy  felt  a  little  thrill  of  triumph,  even 
in  her  desolation,  to  think  he  still  chose  to  be  her 
friend. 

When  Margy  came  back,  Daisy  had  established 
herself  at  the  sewing-machine.  She  heard  the 
carriage  stop  at  the  gate,  and  Zue's  ringing  laugh. 
Then  she  knew  that  Margy  was  helping  the  old 
lame  gardener  —  who  was  nearly  always  on  hand 
for  odd  jobs  at  the  rectory  —  put  up  the  horse 
and  carriage.  Her  thoughts  flew  at  once  to 
Temple  and  the  awful  injustice  under  which  he 
suffered. 


"SHE  SHALL  TELL  ME  THE  STORY"        329 

Sometimes  she  almost  hated  the  woman  who  had 
made  this  accusation.  Now  she  should  be  forced 
to  counsel  with  her,  all  the  time  feeling  the  deadly 
power  of  the  secret  that  lay  between  them.  To 
be  on  friendly  terms  with  one  who  had  stabbed  the 
man  she  loved  to  the  heart !  —  could  she  bring  her- 
self to  do  it? 

"  What  a  coward  I  am!  "  she  exclaimed,  as  this 
thought  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheeks.  "  I  can 
see  Margy  now,  without  being  disturbed,  and  have 
it  out  with  her.  I  cannot  be  a  hypocrite.  She 
shall  tell  me  the  whole  story,  then  I  can  judge  for 
myself." 

She  ran  down-stairs  while  the  resolve  was  still 
strong  upon  her.  Margy  was  taking  off  her  wraps. 
Her  cheeks  were  flushed,  her  hair  was  disarranged, 
and  she  was  laughing  at  some  comical  speech  of 
Zue's.  Daisy  was  startled  at  the  picture  of  health 
and  good  looks  presented  by  this  woman,  who  had 
till  now  been  an  enigma. 

"  The  sun  is  hot,  though  the  air  is  cold,"  said 
Margy,  then  saw  Daisy,  and  her  countenance 
changed.  The  color  went  out  of  her  cheeks.  It 
was  the  first  time  Daisy  had  come  into  the  kitchen 
since  Temple  had  left. 

"O  Miss  Daisy!  — Yes,  I  saw  them  well  off," 
she  said  awkwardly.  "  It's  bound  to  make  a  lone- 
some house,  though.  But  it  will  do  Mrs.  Prince 


330  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE   WILL 

worlds  of  good.     She  looks  better  already.     She 
was  fretting  her  heart  out." 

Daisy  stood  quite  calm  in  appearance,  but  in- 
wardly her  whole  being  was  seething  with  mingled 
emotions.  This  woman  had  tried  to  ruin  her  life, 
to  shatter  her  idol,  to  plunge  him  into  despair. 
She  imagined  him  night  and  day  at  work,  striving 
to  exonerate  himself.  She  knew  he  was  not  idle. 
And  here  was  the  woman  who  had  done  all  this 
mischief,  utterly  unconcerned. 

"  Margy,"  said  Daisy,  plunging  into  the  subject 
at  once,  her  slight  figure  erect,  her  glance  steady, 
"  I  know  all  about  it." 

"  All  about  what,  Miss  Daisy  ?  "  but  the  woman 
turned  deathly  pale.  She  had  put  the  question  to 
gain  time. 

"  Your  story  —  the  story  you  told  my  brother." 

"  Oh !  and  he  promised,"  said  Margy  bitterly, 
smiting  her  hands  together. 

"  Not  to  tell  me.  I  know  that,  and  he  never 
opened  his  lips  to  me  about  it.  Never  mind  how 
I  learned  it.  Now  I  want  to  hear  it  from  your 
own  lips." 

"  Oh,  I  can't !  I  can't !  Miss  Daisy.  Don't  urge 
me,  for  God's  sake.  Not  you  !  Besides,  the  rector 
is  gone  :  "  she  almost  wrung  her  hands. 

"  What  difference  can  that  make  ?  He  don't 
know  that  I  know  it.  I  want  the  whole  truth  from 
your  lips." 


"IT  WAS  DONE  TO  SAVE  YOU"  331 

The  woman  slowly  tied  on  her  big  house-apron. 
Her  hands  trembled  so  that  she  could  hardly  hold 
the  strings. 

"  Won't  you  sit,  Miss  Daisy  ?  "  She  pushed  a 
chair  towards  her.  Her  hands  refused  to  lift  it. 
For  once  her  magnificent  strength  failed  her. 

Daisy  sat  down,  still  with  the  expectant  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"  I'd  rather  not,  indeed,  Miss  Daisy."  Her  voice 
shook.  "  I'd  a  good  deal  rather  Mr.  Prince  would 
tell  you." 

"  I  wish  to  hear  it  only  from  you,"  said  Daisy 
sternly.  "  Don't  I  say  that  I  already  know  it  ?  It 
won't  kill  me." 

"  Oh,  then,  I  suppose  I  must,"  said  Margy  help- 
lessly. "  I  didn't  want  to  think  of  it  any  more. 
I've  suffered  enough  already.  But,  Miss  Daisy, 
you  will  believe  that  it  cost  me  much  to  come 
to  the  point  of  telling.  Before  Heaven,  it  was 
done  to  save  you ; "  and  the  tears  welled  up  to  the 
great  dark  eyes. 

"Of  course,  I  must  try  to  believe  that,"  said 
Daisy  in  a  cold  voice. 

"Very  well,  then.  Let  me  go  up-stairs  for  a 
moment.  When  I  come  down,  I'll  tell  you,"  said 
the  woman. 

Left  alone,  Zue  came  bounding  in  from  the  back 
yard,  tresses  flying,  cheeks  aglow.  Yes,  she  did 


332         IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

look  like  Temple !  Daisy  saw  it  now,  and  felt  a 
new  bitterness  towards  the  child. 

"Do  you  know  my  very  own  father?"  she 
asked,  throwing  back  the  mass  of  curls  that  the 
wind  had  tangled. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  such  a  question?  "  Daisy 
made  answer  in  a  strained  voice.  At  that  moment, 
though  she  struggled  against  it,  she  knew  that  she 
hated  Zue. 

"  Because  my  mamma  said  —  hush !  she  is  com- 
ing. Some  other  time,"  said  the  child,  and  ran 
with  dancing  steps  out  of  the  kitchen. 

Margy  came  slowly  forward.  She  was  still  very 
pale,  and  the  corners  of  her  mouth  were  drawn  in 
deep,  anxious  lines.  Placing  some  yellowed  let- 
ters and  a  photograph  where  Daisy  could  see  them, 
she  sat  down  like  one  weary  and  ill  at  ease. 

"  Look  at  them,"  she  said  briefly. 

Daisy  lifted  the  picture.  What  she  saw  was  a 
handsome  young  man,  like,  yet  unlike,  Andrew 
Temple.  The  unlikeness  was  only  in  the  expres- 
sion of  youth.  Straight  eyebrows,  haughtily 
curved  lips,  eyes  of  the  same  color,  hair  of  the 
same  luxuriance. 

"  Should  you  recognize  it  ?  "  Margy  asked. 

Daisy  struggled  with  her  misgivings.  Then  all 
at  once  her  face  brightened,  and  she  spoke,  for  she 
had  studied  the  picture  with  love  for  a  guide. 


LIKE,    YET   UNLIKE  333 

"  No,"  she  said  quietly,  "  it  is  not  like  Mr. 
Temple." 

"And  your  brother  saw  the  likeness  at  once," 
said  Margy,  astonished. 

"A  man  might  be  deceived;  besides,  he  was 
prejudiced.  A  woman "  —  who  loves,  she  had 
almost  added — "sees  deeper  than  the  surface. 
There  are  lines  of  evil  in  this  face,"  she  went  on, 
scanning  it  closely:  "the  expression  is  selfish  and 
dissipated.  Now,  such  lines,  such  an  expression, 
deepen  with  age.  They  can  never  be  wholly 
eradicated.  The  features  are  like  his,  but  the 
expression  decides  me.  This  was  never  taken  for 
Andrew  Temple,"  she  said  with  a  sort  of  triumph. 

"It  was  taken  for  Andrew  Temple,"  said 
Margy ;  "  but  if  a  man  reforms  "  — 

"  Hush !  "  said  Daisy  sternly.  "  You  hint  at 
reformation.  If  the  man  never  took  any  steps  to 
find  his  wife  and  child,  if  he  denies  them  both,  I 
should  like  to  see  where  the  reformation  comes  in  ! ' 
No,  I  tell  you  again,  that  face  is  not  the  face  of 
Senator  Temple  ! " 

She  spoke  the  name  with  simple  dignity,  and 
laid  the  picture  on  one  side.  Margy's  face  dark- 
ened. 

"  What  will  you  say  to  the  writing,  then  ?  "  she 
asked. 

"  That  is  as  strangely  like,  and  yet  unlike,  as 


334  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

the  picture.  In  the  letters  I  have  received  from 
him,  although  the  capitals  are  very  similar,  and  the 
flourish  after  the  name,  he  never  crosses  the  t's  or 
dots  the  i's  in  that  elaborate  fashion.  This  is  a 
more  careful  hand." 

"  He  is  perhaps  more  careless  now.  When  men 
grow  older  they  seldom  take  such  pains." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Daisy,  "  but  remember,  I  don't 
believe,"  and  she  put  emphasis  into  every  word, 
"  that  Andrew  Temple,  my  Andrew  Temple,"  she 
blushed,  but  never  flinched,  "ever  wrote  those 
letters." 

The  woman  stared  at  her  in  blank  astonishment. 

"Who  did,  then?" 

"  Ah !  that  remains  to  be  proved.  Suppose  for 
one  little  minute  that  you  are  accusing  the  wrong 
man!" 

"  I  should  be  tempted  to  kill  myself,"  responded 
the  woman. 

"  I  believe  you  would,"  said  Daisy  coldly,  "  but 
that  wouldn't  help  the  matter.  However,  under 
the  supposition  that  he  is  the  man,  go  on  with 
your  story." 

Margy  faltered.  Had  doubts  risen  also  in  her 
own  mind,  when  she  had  been  so  sure,  so  sure  ? 

"  Well  —  I  —  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  man  is 
my  husband,"  she  said ;  and  then,  in  a  straight- 
forward though  nervous  manner,  she  told  the  story 


YOU  MAY  BE  WRONG  335 

which  the  reader  already  knows,  emphasizing  it 
with  tears  and  sighs  that  gave  Daisy  a  heart- 
ache. 

"  And  what  do  you  intend  to  do  now  ?  "  asked 
Daisy.  "  If  this  man  should  prove  to  be  your 
husband,  he  can  give  you  a  splendid  position." 

"  Me ! "  laughed  the  woman  with  a  scornful 
gesture,  looking  round  her  domain.  "  Fancy  me 
in  a  splendid  position  !  Miss  Daisy,  if  he  offered 
me  the  whole  world,  and  it  was  his  to  give,  I'd 
never  live  with  him  again,  nor  take  his  name.  Let 
the  coward  go.  He  is  not  worthy  even  of 
me,  Miss  Daisy,  let  alone  a  beautiful  girl  like 
you!" 

"But,  Margy,  remember  this  charge  of  yours 
must  be  proved  beyond  the  possibility  of  a  doubt," 
said  Daisy.  "  You  may  be  wrong  !  I  affirm  that 
you  are ! " 

"  Oh,  no ;  oh,  no,  Miss  Daisy !  hard  as  it  must 
be  for  you  to  believe,  I'm  not  wrong.  Didn't 
I  know  him  the  first  minute  I  set  my  eyes  on 
him?" 

"  But  he  did  not  know  you.  A  start,  a  change 
of  countenance,  would  have  betrayed  him  if  he 
had." 

"No,  he  didn't  know  me  at  first,  because  I 
wouldn't  let  him.  You  remember  how  I  bun- 
dled my  face  up?  Besides,  I  am  very  much 


336  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

changed.     I  was  a  slim  girl  then,  not  as  large  as 

you." 

"  I  will  not  believe  it,"  said  Daisy ;  "  and  re- 
member, whatever  happens,  I  told  you  that  I  did 
not  believe  Andrew  Temple  could  ever  be  dishon- 
orable." 


A  MISERABLE  SUNDAY  33T 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

AT   LAST,   TRIUMPH. 

DAISY  shut  herself  up  in  her  own  room  after 
this  interview,  and  stayed  there  till  dinner-time. 
Afterward  she  called  on  her  girl  friends,  to  whom 
she  owed  visits,  making  her  last  call  at  Mrs.  St. 
Albert's. 

"  So  the  rector  is  gone,"  said  that  lady,  "  and 
we  shall  be  bereaved  one  whole  miserable  Sunday. 
Dr.  Fish  will  take  his  place,  and  cry  through  the 
service  and  sob  through  the  sermon.  Why  he 
should  snivel  when  he  reads,  *  The  Lord  is  in  his 
holy  temple,'  passes  my  comprehension.  But  what 
is  the  matter  with  you  lately?  I  shall  have  to 
come  over  and  doctor  you.  '  Dar's  a  lachrymosi- 
cal  look  in  yo'  eye,  chile.  I's  feared  yo'  cries  mo' 
dan  yo'  prays,'  that's  what  Nana  said  to  me  when 
I  was  blue.  We  must  go  back  to  Washington  as 
soon  as  the  rector  returns." 

"  I  never  want  to  see  Washington  again !  "  cried 
Daisy  with  a  heavy  sigh. 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  Washington?  " 


338  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

Mrs.  St.  Albert  asked  with  well-feigned  consterna- 
tion. "  I  think  I  could  be  happy  there  for  one 
solid  year,  but  my  incomparable  Hugh  won't  listen 
to  it.  Why,  it's  the  paradise  of  America !  " 

"Paradise  or  not,  I  like  Fairstock  best.  I'm 
going  to  stay  here  all  my  days,  and  live  for  some- 
thing beside  myself." 

"  Nonsense ;  I  know  what  that  means.  For 
pity's  sake,  Daisy,  don't  get  sentimental.  It's  too 
ridiculous,  at  your  time  of  life ;  or,  as  Nana  would 
put  it,  'don't  get  supersparegolical,  chile.'  You 
will  marry  a  good  man  some  time,  and  have  a 
happy  home  of  your  own.  That's  what  Providence 
intends  for  you." 

"  The  poor  child  is  dead  in  love  with  that  hand- 
some infidel,  that's  what's  the  matter  with  her," 
said  Mrs.  St.  Albert  to  herself,  when  Daisy  had 
gone.  "  That's  what  makes  Washington  distaste- 
ful to  her.  What  did  he  come  back  with  her 
for?  to  set  people  talking?  He  has  no  right  to 
trifle  with  a  girl  in  that  way.  Not  but  that  it 
was  very  kind  of  him,  and  all  that ;  but  can't  he 
see  that  Daisy  likes  him  ?  " 

As  for  Daisy,  she  left  Mrs.  St.  Albert  a  little 
lighter  of  heart  than  when  she  first  met  her. 
Evening  brought  light  and  music  and  friends. 
Two  days  after,  to  Daisy's  great  astonishment, 
came  a  letter  from  Temple. 


TRIUMPH  AND  JOY  339 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  she  almost  gasped, 
half  fearing  to  break  the  envelope.  "  Has  he  seen 
Arthur  ?  He  never  would  have  written  me  with- 
out his  consent." 

It  was  a  brief  letter,  and  ran  as  follows :  — 

MY  DARLING,  —  My  bonds  are  broken !  I  am  a  free  man 
once  more  !  Your  brother  will  tell  you  the  whole  story. 
By  the  time  this  reaches  you,  he  may  be  at  the  rectory.  He 
said  he  should  leave  his  wife  at  a  brother  clergyman's  house 
in  New  York  City.  After  he  has  seen  you,  he  will  return 
for  her,  and  possibly  bring  you  with  him.  Can  you  not 
come  ?  For  my  sake,  do.  I  can  run  over  to  New  York 
easily.  Or  perhaps  you  will  all  come  to  Washington.  I  have 
seen  your  cousin  Eleanor  lately.  She  begs  me  to  plead 
with  you  to  come  directly  on.  She  is  longing  to  see  her 
cousin  Arthur  and  his  wife.  Shall  write  you  a  long  letter 
to-night  —  this  by  way  of  introduction.  Please  don't  say 
no.  Yours,  for  ever  and  ever, 

TEMPLE. 

"  At  last ! "  cried  Daisy,  radiant,  all  smiles 
and  tears ;  "  oh,  joy !  joy  !  triumph  and  joy  !  " 

She  kissed  the  dear  sentence,  "  Yours  for  ever 
and  ever"  again  and  again. 

"  I  can  meet  him  with  a  clear  conscience,"  she 
exclaimed,  her  whole  form  dilating,  her  face  gleam- 
ing, a  tithe  of  her  ecstasy  seeming  to  pass  into  her 
very  dress,  the  lace  ruffles  at  her  throat  and  wrist 
making  the  whole  figure  luminous.  "  I  can  say, '  I 
never  once  doubted  you  —  never  once  was  my 


340  IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

faith  shaken,  even  when  seeming  proofs  were 
placed  before  me  ! '  Oh !  I  am  so  glad  I  did  not 
abuse  his  trust  in  me  !  I  should  have  had  to  con- 
fess all  I  had  felt  and  said,  and  in  his  eyes  should 
have  seemed  trifling  and  unworthy  to  be  loved." 

After  a  brief  period  of  exaltation  came  other 
thoughts.  Arthur  was  coming  home  —  the  next 
train  was  due  in  an  hour. 

"  Everything  must  be  ready,  and  especially  his 
little  supper."  She  dashed  down-stairs,  nearly 
falling  in  her  hurry. 

"  Margy,  my  brother  is  on  his  way  home,"  she 
called,  "  and,  Margy,  I  forgive  you  everything.  I 
was  right,  and  you  were  wrong.  My  Mr.  Temple 
is  not  your  Mr.  Temple,  thank  God ! " 

"  Miss  Daisy !  "  exclaimed  Margy,  pale  to  the 
lips  ;  "  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"I  mean  that  everything  is  to  be  explained. 
Tell  old  Dick  to  get  the  carriage  out.  That's  all 
I  can  say  now.  I'm  going  to  the  depot  after  Mr. 
Prince."  And  she  went  out  of  the  kitchen. 

"  Not  him  !  not  him ! "  muttered  Margy,  sink- 
ing into  a  chair.  "  O  Lord !  what  have  I  done  ? 
I'll  go  away  now.  I  never  could  face  him.  But 
I  don't  believe  it,"  she  added  fiercely,  her  whole 
manner  changing.  "  It's  some  plot.  He's  a  great 
lawyer,  and  a  great  man.  Of  course  he'll  fight 
for  it.  I  won't  believe  it." 


THE  RECTOR  RETURNS  341 

But  still  she  sat  there,  dazed  and  wondering,  till 
the  carriage,  with  the  rector  and  Daisy  inside, 
drove  up  to  the  gate. 

Daisy  had  met  her  brother  with  mixed  feelings, 
joy  being  dominant.  He  sprang  into  the  carriage. 

"  Well,  little  one,  I'm  glad  I  went,"  he  said. 
She  took  Temple's  letter  from  her  pocket,  and 
held  it  up  gleefully. 

"  I  see  you  know,"  he  said.  "  Did  he  tell  you 
all?" 

"  He  told  me  nothing,  only  that  he  was  a  free 
man,"  Daisy  said,  her  eyes  dancing.  "And  per- 
haps you  don't  know  that  I  knew  all  about  it. 
You  don't  know  that  I  found  your  memorandum- 
book  first,  and  happening  to  look  in '  it  for  some- 
thing I  wanted,  thinking  it  mine,  I  read  your 
mems.  I  couldn't  help  it  —  I  didn't  mean  to. 
Mary  took  it  up  from  the  floor,  but  I  threw  it 
there.  And,  Arthur,  even  then,  and  ever  since,  I 
have  believed  him  to  be  an  innocent  man." 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  that  consciousness,  little 
one.  We  have  done  Temple  a  fearful  injustice," 
said  her  brother.  "  I  am  glad  and  thankful  to  be 
able  to  exonerate  him.  That  was  a  vile  charge, 
and  I  am  bound  to  say  he  has  behaved  nobly, 
under  the  circumstances.  Now  here  we  are  home, 
and  as  soon  as  I  have  washed  and  eaten,  I'll  tell 
you  the  whole  strange  story." 


342  IF  SHE  WILL,  SHE  WILL 

It  was  not  long  before  Daisy  was  sitting  expect- 
ant, her  brother's  hand  in  hers. 

"  You  have  been  very  patient,"  he  said,  smiling. 
"In  the  first  place,  Andrew  Temple  believed  he 
had  no  near  relations  living.  He  was  mistaken. 
The  uncle  who  went  to  Australia  before  Temple 
was  born,  and  was  supposed  to  be  killed  in  some 
disreputable  way,  allowed  the  report  of  his  death 
—  for  it  seems  he  was  dangerously  wounded  —  to 
go  uncontradicted.  Not  long  after  that  he  mar- 
ried a  wealthy  woman,  by  whom  he  had  a  son. 
But  I  am  getting  ahead  of  my  story.  When  I 
went  to  the  lawyer's  office,  I  found  him  ready  for 
me. 

"  '  Are  you  the  Rev.  Arthur  Prince  ?  '  he  asked. 

"  I  replied  that  I  was. 

" '  Did  you  know  a  woman  by  the  name  of  Margy 
Austen? ' 

" '  Yes,'  I  said  ;  '  she  has  proved  to  be  the  wife 
of  an  Andrew  Temple.' 

"  '  Exactly  ;  and  she  has  one  child.' 

"  I  assented. 

"  '  You  helped  her  —  in  fact,  rescued  her  and 
the  child  from  death.' 

" » Yes,  I  did,'  I  said. 

" '  Is  that  woman  living  ?  '  he  asked. 

"  '  Both  she  and  her  child  are  in  my  family.  She 
has  been  for  years  my  housekeeper,'  I  answered. 


THE  LAWYER'S  STORY  343 

" '  You  will  probably  be  surprised  to  hear  that  a 
fortune  has  been  left  to  her,  and  a  smaller  sum  to 
yourself,'  he  said.  '  I  have  here  the  confession  of  a 
man  who  came  from  Australia  some  six  months  ago, 
to  repair  a  wrong  which  he  had  done.  He  was  ailing 
when  he  arrived,  and  the  disease  developed  into 
rapid  consumption.  He  was  at  an  up-town  hotel, 
and  strangely  enough,  it  happened,  as  we  say,  that 
the  clergyman  who  was  called  in  towards  the  last 
of  his  sickness,  was  the  very  one  whose  deacon 
you  were  at  one  time,  some  ten  years  before.  It 
seems  that  this  man  deserted  his  wife,  partly 
because  he  had  tired  of  her,  and  partly  because 
luck  had  turned  against  him,  and  he  could  not 
support  her.  He  worked  his  way  back  to  Mel- 
bourne, where  his  parents  took  him  again  into 
favor,  which  it  seems  he  had  forfeited  by  his 
own  misconduct.  He  knew  nothing  of  his  father's 
origin,  but  supposed  he  had  been  born  in  Austra- 
lia, so  of  course  he  was  in  perfect  ignorance  of 
having  any  relations  in  this  country.' 

"So  much  for  the  lawyer.  The  story  was  a 
strange  one,  but  the  proofs  were  convincing.  It 
seems  that  the  young  man  kept  the  fact  of  his 
marriage  a  secret,  though  he  had  been  several 
times  on  the  point  of  returning  for  his  wife,  but 
he  had  launched  out  into  business  under  his 
father's  auspices,  and  become  very  much  interested 


IF  SHE  WILL,   SHE  WILL 

in  several  money-making  schemes.  His  father 
died  some  two  or  three  years  ago,  leaving  him 
much  of  his  wealth.  Then  his  conscience  waked 
up.  He  thought  of  the  wife  he  had  deserted,  and 
determined  to  come  to  America,  to  the  city  of  New 
York,  and  institute  a  search  for  her  and  her  child. 
All  his  efforts  to  find  his  family,  however,  were 
unavailing.  Then  the  old  clergyman  who  had 
offered  to  find  my  address  was  taken  ill  and  died. 
But  the  man,  Andrew  Temple,  had  my  name, 
though  not  my  address,  which  the  rector  had 
promised  to  find,  when  unfortunately  he  was 
taken  down  with  his  last  illness.  Then  the  lawyer 
advertised.  Temple  saw  the  advertisement,  and 
sent  it  on  to  me.  The  Australian  Andrew  Temple 
left  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  his  wife,  and  a  thou- 
sand dollars  for  me.  So,  you  see,  I  shall  not  fare 
badly  for  my  visit  to  New  York." 

"  What  a  strange,  lovely,  romantic  story  !  " 
said  Daisy  in  a  breath. 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  anything  very  lovely  in  it 
but  the  sequel,"  said  the  rector,  laughing.  "  But 
I  find  the  resemblance  accounted  for,  for  this  man 
was  a  son  of  Temple's  father's  twin  brother; 
both  that  and  the  handwriting,  which  I  have 
observed  differs  but  slightly  in  members  of  the 
same  family.  For  instance,  my  letters  might  be 
taken  for  those  of  my  father,  so  exactly  alike  is 


DAISY   TELLS  MARGY  345 

th»  handwriting.  Then  both  sons  were  named 
aftei  their  grandfather,  simply,  Andrew  Temple. 
There  is  where  the  confusion  came  in.  Our 
Andrew  is  a  nobleman  of  God's  own  making.  I 
wrote  to  him  at  once,  making  ample  and  humble 
apologies.  Now  it  is  my  agreeable  duty  to  convey 
this  knowledge  to  Margy,  who  in  all  she  has  done 
has  acted  from  a  consciousness  of  right.  Margy's 
father  is  an  Episcopal  clergyman,  an  excellent  old 
gentleman.  I  met  him  and  told  him  the  whole 
story.  He  was  very  much  affected,  and  is  long- 
ing to  see  his  daughter  and  his  grandchild,  and 
glad  to  know  that  they  are  both  placed  beyond 
want." 

"  Shall  I  go  to  Margy  at  once  ?  Please  let  me 
tell  her,"  'Daisy  pleaded. 

"  As  you  like,"  said  the  rector,  content  with  his 
paper  and  his  fire. 

This  time  Daisy  hurried  with  willing  steps  into 
the  kitchen. 

"  Margy,  where  are  you  ?  "  she  called. 

"  She's  been  crying  awful  hard,"  said  Zue,  whc 
stood  with  her  hands  behind  her.  "  Here  she 
comes." 

Steps  were  heard  on  the  stairs.  Margy  made 
her  appearance.  Her  eyes  were  red. 

"  Margy,  you  won't  cry  any  more  when  you 
hear  what  has  happened." 


346  IF   SHE   WILL,   SHE  WILL 

Margy  came  slowly  forward,  looking  very  pale 
and  miserable. 

"  Margy,  you  know  I  believed  in  Mr.  Temple's 
entire  innocence.  You  married  his  cousin  —  a 
cousin  he  did  not  know  ever  existed,  because  his 
uncle  had  been  reported  dead,  years  and  years 
ago.  He  was  the  one  who  left  you ;  but  it  seems 
he  repented,  and  came  to  America  to  find  his 
wife  and  child." 

"  He  is  living,  then  ?  "  Margy  said,  drawing  a 
long  breath. 

"  No,  Margy,  he  is  dead." 

Margy  changed  countenance,  but  she  said 
nothing. 

"  He  came  over  here,  was  taken  sick  in  New 
York,  and  died." 

"  I  wonder  if  he  had  any  sort  of  care  ?  "  Margy 
said,  in  a  pained  voice.  "  It  seems  awful  to  die 
so." 

"  Yes,  he  had  the  best  of  care,  for  he  was  a  rich 
man,  Margy.  And  you  are  rich,  too,"  said  Daisy, 
breathless,  "  for  he  left  you  fifty  thousand  dollars. 
And,  Margy,  you  will  be  stunned  with  all  the 
good  news,  I  fear.  Arthur  met  your  father  in 
New  York,  and  it  wouldn't  surprise  me  if  he 
comes  on  to  see  you." 

"  Then  I  have  got  a  grandfather !  "  cried  Zue 
gleefully. 


IN  WASHINGTON  AGAIN  347 

"  Yes,  and  a  good  one,  a  clergyman,  like  Mr. 
Prince." 

Margy  had  both  hands  clasped  to  her  heart. 

"  Thank  God  that  I  was  mistaken,  Miss  Daisy. 
Forgive  me.  I  ask  your  pardon  on  my  bended 
knees  " 

"  Get  up,  Margy  —  nonsense,"  cried  Daisy, 
laughing  and  crying  together.  "  I  am  altogether 
too  happy  to  require  anything  of  the  kind.  You 
did  wha'j  seemed  to  be  your  duty,  and  the  event 
proves  that  I  was  right  in  not  giving  the  story 
credence.  Some  men  I  might  have  doubted,  but 
not  Andrew  Temple  !  " 

Not  many  days  elapsed  before  Daisy  was  in 
Washington.  It  was  a  happy  meeting  between 
the  cousins,  for  Eleanor  was  of  too  noble  a 
nature  to  harbor  any  petty  jealousy,  though  in 
her  inmost  soul  she  knew  that  she  should  never 
love  any  other  man  than  Andrew  Temple.  She 
had  also  the  happiness  of  hearing  the  beloved 
cousin  in  a  church  whose  surroundings  harmo- 
nized with  the  qualities  of  person  and  intellect 
that  pre-eminently  distinguished  Arthur  Prince. 

"If  you  could  only  come  to  Washington  to 
stay,  I  would  also  remain  here,"  Eleanor  said  to 
him  as  they  walked  home  from  church. 

"  Are  you  going  away  ? "  he  asked,  in  some 
surprise. 


348 

"  Yes.  I  go  to  New  York  in  a  few  days  to  join 
a  sisterhood.  My  rector  is  my  adviser." 

"  I  never  should  dream  of  it,"  her  cousin  said, 
much  surprised. 

"  You  think  me  a  thorough  worldling  ?  "  she 
asked,  smiling. 

"  I  did  think  you  loved  this  manner  of  life ; 
you  seem  so  well  fitted  for  society,  that,  though  I 
rejoice  to  see  you  taking  a  step  that  will  most  cer- 
tainly make  for  your  spiritual  welfare,  I  cannot  help 
asking  you  why  you  do  it." 

"  I  am  tired  of  all  this  display  and  frivolity. 
That  is  partly  the  reason  ;  the  other  part,"  she  said 
quietly  and  with  gentle  dignity,  "  is  my  secret." 

"  God  be  with  you,  my  dear,  whatever  you  do, 
wherever  you  go,"  was  the  solemn  response. 

Mary  was  quick  at  divining,  woman-like. 

"  Eleanor,"  she  said  to  her  husband  that  night, 
"  is  in  love  with  Andrew  Temple." 

"  My  dear  wife,  how  can  you  possibly  know  ?  " 
he  asked. 

"  Because  I  saw  her  face  when  Daisy  and 
Temple  met.  Poor  soul,  how  I  pitied  her  !  Since 
I  knowr  what  sorrow  is,  I  pity  everything  that 
suffers." 

That  evening  Daisy  and  Temple  were  alone  in 
one  of  the  many  exquisite  nooks  of  the  "  House 
Beautiful,"  as  Daisy  called  it. 


THE  WEDDING  349 

"I  shall  not  let  you  leave  me  again,"  he  said, 
"  never,  never  again  !  You  will  stay,  won't  you, 
my  darling  ?  Your  cousin  wishes  our  union  to  be 
celebrated  here  and  while  your  brother  is  in 
Washington.  It  is  my  dearest  hope  that  our 
happiness  may  be  consummated  at  once.  You 
owe  it  to  me  for  all  the  anguish  I  have  undergone 
these  last  terrible  months.  For,  suppose  my 
cousin  had  never  spoken  ?  I  should  have  borne 
the  stigma  of  profligacy  and  dishonor  to  my 
death." 

"  What  does  Arthur  say  ?  "  asked  Daisy,  scarcely 
lifting  her  eyes. 

"  He  says  it  all  rests  with  Daisy,"  was  his 
laughing  reply. 

"  Then,  if  it  all  rests  with  me,  I  say  yes,"  she 
answered. 

The  wedding  was  a  very  quiet  one.  While 
Margy  was  at  her  father's  home  making  arrange- 
ments for  the  education  of  Zue,  it  took  place  in 
the  pleasant  Washington  mansion.  The  banker 
gave  Daisy  away,  and  Eleanor  was  the  only 
bridesmaid,  with  Everard  for  her  support.  , 

Senator  Temple  had  bought  and  furnished  a 
house  on  one  of  the  most  prominent  avenues,  and 
after  the  wedding  tour  Daisy  wore  her  honors 
bravely. 

Margy  was  prevailed  upon  to  remain  with  her 


350  IF   SITE   WILL,    SHE   WILL 

father,  though  she  never  felt  quite  reconciled  to  a 
separation  from  the  rector's  family.  When  Daisy 
and-  her  husband  came  back  to  the  rectory  to 
spend  their  first  vacation,  Margy  was  one  of  their 
honored  guests. 

"  I  shall  never  be  as  happy  as  I  was  with  you 
all,"  she  said  to  Daisy,  "  but  my  mind  is  at  rest 
now,  and  Zue  is  so  changed,  all  through  you  !  I 
believe  she  will  be  the  pride  and  joy  of  my  life, 
and  thank  God,  I  can  give  her  all  she  needs." 

At  the  church,  on  the  old  thoroughfares,  and  at 
home,  the 'bride  was  the  observed  of  all  observers. 

"  You  look  just  as  sweet  and  bright  as  the 
Daisy  of  old,"  said  Mrs.  St.  Albert,  as  she  met 
her  friend  at  the  first  reception  given  in  her  honor. 
"  I  need  not  ask  you  if  you  are  happy." 

"  I  am  very  happy,"  said  Daisy. 

"  My  saintly  other  half  was  saying  this  morning 
that  he  only  hoped  after  twenty  years  of  trial,  — 
trials  he  should  have  said,  my  dear,  —  you  would 
be  as  well  content  with  your — bargain  —  think  of 
that,  Daisy,  —  the  horrid,  commercial  idea  !  —  your 
bargain, —  as  he  is  with  his  !  Bless  his  bald  head,  I 
do  believe  he  meant  it,  too,  though,  as  my  poor  old 
Nana  used  to  say,  '  dar's  nothin'  so  undependible  as 
a  man,  honey,  fo'  sure.'  That  '  undependible  '  is 
good,  isn't  it?  Well,  I  think  we  are  all  happy, 
except,  possibly,  poor  Rush  Severn,  but  his  afrlic- 


"QUITE  SATISFIED"  351 

tion  must  have  been  sanctified  to  him,  or  to  the 
organ,  I  don't  know  which,  for  he  plays  like  an 
angel,  and  I  do  hope  he  will  find  a  nice  wife, 
though  I'm  quite  sure  it  won't  be  a  duplicate 
Daisy."  And  so  she  ran  on  till  presently  Temple 
came  up  and  turned  the  tide  of  conversation.  But 
before  she  left,  the  merry-tongued  little  lady  con- 
trived to  whisper  in  Daisy's  ear,  — 

"  It's  one  thing  to  have  a  handsome  husband, 
and  another  to  have  a  distinguished  onl,  but,  my 
dear,  you  have  both." 

Daisy  laughed  back  as  she  made  reply,  the 
dimples  deepening,  — 

"  I  am  quite  satisfied." 


DOUGLAS 


A   "WOMAN'S    INHERITANCE. 

"  Miss  Douglas's  Novels  are  all  worth  reading,  and  this  is  one  full  of 
suggestions,  interesting  situations,  and  bright  dialogue  ."  —  Cottage  Hearth,. 

OUT  OF  THE  "WRECK;  or,  Was  it  a  Victory? 
"  Bright  and  entertaining  as  Miss  Douglas's  stories  always  are,  this, 
her  new  one,  leads  them  all."  —  New  Bedford  Standard. 

FLOYD    GRANDON'S    HONOR. 
"  Fascinating  throughout,  and  worthy  of  the  reputation  of  the  author." 

WHOM    KATHIE    MARRIED. 

Kathie  was  the  heroine  of  the  popular  series  of  Kathie  Stories  for 
poung  people,  the  readers  of  which  were  very  anxious  to  know  with 
whom  Kathie  settled  down  in  life.  Hence  this  story  ,  charmingly  written. 

LOST    IN    A    GREAT   CITY. 

"  There  are  the  power  of  delineation  and  robustness  of  expression  that 
would  credit  a  masculine  hand  in  the  present  volume. 

THE    OLD   WOMAN    WHO    LIVED    IX    A    SHOE. 
"The  romances  of  Miss  Douglas's  creation  are  all  thrillingly  interest- 
Ing."  —  Cambridge  Tribune. 

HOPE    MILLS  ;   or,  Between  Friend  ami  Sweetheart. 
"  Amanda  Douglas  is  one  of  the  favorite  authors  of  American  novel. 
readers."  —  Manchester  Mirror. 

FROM    HAND    TO    MOUTH. 

"  There  is  real  satisfaction  In  reading  this  book,  from  the  fact  that  we 
can  so  readily  'take  it  home'  to  ourselves."  —  Portland  Argus. 

NELLY  KINNARD'S  KINGDOM. 

"  The  Hartford  Religious  Herald  "  says,  "  This  story  is  so  fascinating, 
that  one  can  hardly  lay  it  down  after  taking  it  up." 

IN    TRUST;  or,  Dr.  Bertrand's  Household. 
"  She  writes  in  a  free,  fresh  and  natural  way,  and  her  characters  are 
never  overdrawn."  —  Manchester  Mirror. 

CLAUDIA. 

"  The  plot  is  very  dramatic,  and  the  denouement  startling.    Claudia,  the 
heroine,  is  one  of  those  self-sacrificing  characters  which  it  ie  the  glory  of 
the  female  sex  to  produce."  —  Boston  Journal. 
STEPHEN    DANE. 

"  This  is  one  of  this  author's  happiest  and  most  successful  attempts  at 
novel-writing,  for  which  a  grateful  public  will  applaud  her."  —  Herald. 

HOME    NOOK;  or,  The  Crown  of  Duty. 

"  An  interesting  story  of  home-life,  not  wanting  in  incident,  and  writ- 
ten in  forcible  and  attractive  style."  —  New  York  Graphic. 

S  YDNIE  ADRIANCE  ;  or,  Trying  the  "World. 
''The  works  of  Miss  Douglas  have  stood  the  test  of  popular  judgment." 

SEVEN   DAUGHTERS. 
H  The  charm  of  the  story  is  the  perfectly  home-like  air  which  pen-add  it." 

OSBORNE   OF   ARROCHAR. 
"  One  of  the  best  of  Miss  Douglas's  stories." 

THE    HHJTUNE'*   OF   THE   FARADAYS 

"  Of  unexceptionable  literary  merit,  deeply  interesting  in  the  develop- 
ment  of  the  plot."  —  fall  Kiter  News. 

FOES  OF   HER   HOUSEHOLD 

"  Full   of  interest  from  the  first  chapter  to   the  end." 

A  MODERN  ADAM  AND  EVE  IN  A  GARDEN 

"  It  is  a  good  novel,  not  only  for  adults,  but  young  folks  as  well." 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  and  sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price 

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A    BOSTON    GIRL'S    AMBITIONS 

"  There  is  nothing  of  the  '  sensational,'  or  so-called  realistic  school,  In 

her  writings.     On  the  contrary,  they  are  noted  for  their  healthy  moral 

tone  and  pure  sentiment,  and  yet  are  not  wanting  in  STRIKING  SITUA- 

TIONS  AND  DRAMATIC  INCIDENTS." — Chicago  Journal. 

BUT    A    PHILISTINE 

"The  moral  lessons,  the  true  life  principles  taught  in  this  book,  render 
it  one  which  it  is  a  pleasure  to  recommend  for  its  stimulating  influence 
upon  the  higher  nature.    Its  literary  quality  is  tine." 
LENOX    DARE 

''  Among  the  best  of  her  productions  we  place  the  volume  here  under 
notice.  In  temper  and  tone  the  work  is  calculated  to  exert  a  healthful 
and  elevating  influence,  and  tends  to  bring  the  reader  into  more  intimate 
sympathy  with  what  is  most  pure  and  noble  in  our  nature."  —  Xew-Eng- 
!und  Methodist, 

DARYLL    GAP ;    or,   Whether  it   Paid 

"  A  story  of  the  petroleum  days,  and  of  a  family  who  struck  oil.    Her 
plots  are  well  arranged,  and  her  characters  are  clearly  and  strongly 
-'rawn."  —  Pittsburg  Recorder. 
A    WOMAN'S    WORD,    AND    HOW    SHE    KEPT    IT 

''  The  celebrity  of  Virginia  F.  Townsend  as  an  authoress,  her  brilliant 
desc.!ptive  powers,  and  pure,  vigorous  imagination,  will  insure  a  hearty 
welcome  for  the  above-entitled  volume  in  the  writer's  happiest  veiu-':'- 
Fushion  Quarterly. 

THAT    QUEER    GIRL 

"A  fresh,  wholesome  book  about  good  men  and  good  women,  bright 
and  cheery  in  style,  and  pure  in  morals.    Just  the  book  to  take  a  young 
girl's  fancy,  and  help  her  to  grow  up,  like  Madeline  and  Argia,  into  the 
sweetness  of  real  girlhood."  —  People's  Monthly. 
ONLY    GIRLS 

"This  volume  shows  how  two  persons,  '  only  girls,' saved  two  men 
from  crime,  even  from  ruin  of  body  and  soul.  The  story  is  ingenious  and 
graphic,  and  kept  the  writer  of  this  notice  up  far  into  the  small  hours  of 
yesterday  morning."  —  Washington  Chronicle. 


The  Holland  Series    Cloth    $1.00  each 
THE  HOLLANDS 

SIX  IN  ALL 

THE  DEERINGS  OF  MEDBURY 

THE  MILLS  OF  TUXBURY 

"  There  is  a  fascination  about  the  stories  of  Miss  Towneend  that  gives 
them  a  firm  hold  upon  the  public,  their  chief  charm  being  their  simplicity 
and  fidelity  to  nature."  —  Commonwealth. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers  and  newsdealers,  and  sent  by  mail,  poitpaid, 
on  receipt  of  price 

•LEE    AND    SHEPARD    Publishers    Boston 

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